The Exile
by AGDoren
Summary: As Morgana attempts to steal Camelot's throne a banished Guinevere is building a new life for herself, but neither love nor destiny are ready to let go of the blacksmith's daughter. She does not yet believe it, but the fate of Albion turns on the choice of Guinevere.
1. The Exile Chapter: The Departure

The Exile

-Guinevere Alone –

Chapter One1

Sunlight beamed down through the receding morning mist. Already the people of Camelot's capital city, former friends were going about their routines. Black smoke puffed from the chimney of the smithy, Grif the butcher drug a squealing pig into his shop, and the fragrance of fresh bread drifted through the Lowtown. On any other morning she might have treated herself to a small loaf of bread and fresh butter, waved to Grif or stopped to speak with Jeordi the head black smith. On any other morning she might have visited these friends and found herself welcome. On this morning though they must –by law- turn her out or risk sharing her banishment, all hands were against her now.

Enid whom she had often thought of as a sister merely stood in the door of her cottage watching her slow steady progress up the street. When Guinevere drew near the woman's home Enid whispered something in her daughter's ear and ducked into her home pulling her child with her. Gwen spared a glance for the wooden door shut tight against her and told herself to keep going.

It was the same with everyone she saw. No one met her eyes, no smiles encouraged her. Even Merlin with whom she had shared so much could only look upon with melancholy eyes as grey as the morning mist. Still there was one thing to be grateful for. The banishment had happened quickly and though rumors had already begun to spread there were very few people out and about. She'd seen unlucky felons detained three, four, five days before sentencing and banishment, allowing time enough for the news to saturate the populace. In those cases the unlucky outcast found the simple act of exiting the Lowtown a circus-like ordeal of  
>humiliation at the hands of their former friends and countrymen. Yet another mercy Arthur had shown her.<br>Gwen halted. How had she come to the walls encircling the Lowtown so quickly? She knew she should be moving forward, but every part of her wanted turn and run back to him. To throw herself at his feet and beg –yes beg- him to forgive, not force her away from him, she'd waited so long. Perhaps the speed of her sentencing and expulsion was no mercy after all. If people had been throwing things at her, calling her adulteress and worse; passing under the white stone archway would have been a relief. As it was Gwen felt she might stand forever at that arch.

"Hullloo Gwen!"

Guinevere peered down the road from Camelot. It was one of the older roman roads wide enough for three men to walk abreast, it would make at least part of her journey easier. It was what or rather who stood beside the road that held her attention; a tall, broad shoulder figure stood waving. In her ideal world Guinevere would have avoided anyone that knew her or her shame. Merlin had not approached her so she had not approached him. Gwaine it seemed would not be so easily avoided. She took a deep breath and left her home behind.

"Gwaine?" She could manage no more than his name for greeting.

"My lady Guinevere."

"Don't call me that." She admonished him.

"I've always called you that and I always will."

Her only reply was to sigh and purse her lips.

"I've come to see you off." Gwaine caught her chin with between his thumb and forefinger.

"Thank you."

"I'll walk with you for a-ways. Save your strength and let me take this for a bit."

Guinevere let him take the cart without argument.

"Any thoughts on where you'll be going?"

"The only place I know is Ealdor?"

"Cenred's lands." Gwaine frowned, "There's no King there now. It could be dangerous. "

"Merlin's mother Hunith lives there, I think if things were going badly they would have sent word."

"More than likely you are correct, but you should have options."

"You offer a suggestion?"

"You could head to Caerleon. Queen Annis is a fair ruler if her husband was not, their lands are prosperous. You should be able to find work there. You could also go to Wyledon. I lived there for a time it is exciting place. It borders Caerleon and is near the sea."  
>Guinevere nodded for her reply.<p>

"If you do go to Wyledon find Adras of the Five Hands. He's a friend heads a little group. They make a good living, they are fair to women and you can learn a lot."

Guinevere couldn't help, but wonder what this group did.

"Take this." He handed her simple gold chain with an unfamiliar flower. "Give it to Adras. He'll know I sent you."

Guinevere took the chain. She knew enough about Gwaine's past to know that she might not want to meet with his _friends_, but you never knew when a recommendation might come in handy.

"Now I've got a few other farewell gifts for you. This is from the staff." He handed her a leather satchel. Inside it Guinevere found a purse heavy with coppers, a meal for her lunch, the cap Enid had been knitting for her daughter -It would actually match her travel cape perfectly-,a belt knife that Elyan had made for himself years ago and most importantly two envelopes that could only be letters of recommendation. Guinevere felt her throat tighten and the start of tears in her eyes.

"Hey this is supposed to make you feel better."

"It is." She managed the two words somehow. "I just wasn't expecting such generosity."

"Guinevere you've got a lot of people here that love you in spite of everything. You're not the first person to make a mistake."

She sniffed and swallowed this fresh well of tears at his kind words.

"Thank you Gwaine. Tell them I won't forget this. That their kindness means more to me than anything else they could have done. Tell Elyan I love him and I hope we meet again."

"I'll tell them Guinevere. I've got to start back soon otherwise I'll be missed."

She nodded and was surprised when he pulled her into a quick rough hug.

"Be careful Gwen and write us when you are settled. We all want to know that you're safe. Even _he'll_want to know."

She didn't say anything to that just nodded and took the handle of the cart. She had to get going if she were going to reach Longstead by nightfall. Somehow she found her steps a little lighter now.

The road away from Camelot led into the woods and before long the palace, its walls, the hill upon which it sat, and the little town huddled next to it were all hidden from her view. Great wide tree trunks were all around her and little scrubby trees and bushes dotted the forest floor. Under normal circumstances she would have found the day a pleasant one. It was neither hot nor cold, and the sun shone sweetly through the trees, and bumble bees buzzed in and out of early spring flowers. Birds sang to each other of things only they knew, but as man had done for centuries she imagined what they might sing to one another about and the ground was easy beneath her feet.

Even with the pleasantness of the day Gwen did not make the time that she had hoped, she'd gotten soft. Before becoming Morgana's maid she and her father had walked the 40 miles to Longstead to pay a visit to Aunt Mary and Uncle John and they'd completed the journey before sundown. She'd only made half that time today. Soon the sun would begin its nighttime descent and she needed to be off the road before then. The would-be Queen began looking for someplace to sleep. She _did not_ want to be on the road after sundown, not with the cart. She'd gotten soft and _stupid._ Gwen found a little pocket in the woods off the side of the road thick with foliage. Pleased with this she got the things she needed from it she needed and pushed the cart into the pocket, hidden thus no one would see it from the road. She wasn't afraid to sleep in the woods at night she knew enough to stay off game trails, bandit trails, and dispose of her garbage away from her camp, not sleep in animal dens, and avoid strangers. Since it was late spring she didn't bother with a fire, most animal predators were only interested in man during the winter months. Guinevere ate a cold and silent evening meal, cleaned her utensils and settled her back against the trunk of a great tree.  
>She pulled her blanket snug round her shoulders and fished the ring Arthur had given her out. He'd not asked for it back and she could not bear to return it to him. She did not wear it on her fingers, but instead on a simple leather thong round her neck. Turning her gaze up to the nighttime starts she prayed quickly and quietly and tucked her head down to sleep.<p>

Guinevere rose as the first hints of false dawn began coloring the sky a fair grey. Sleep had not come easily that night and when it had there had been dreams -unbearable things- from which she forced herself awake. Dreams she refused to think of as she prepared breakfast, broke camp and got on the road with first light of true sunrise. As the day drew on she began see other travelers and Gwen put her hood up. She could not bear to see or speak to anyone.

She drew near to Longstead just after her noon meal and made a camp about a mile from the village. The laws were very clear she could only seek shelter with the coming of night and she could not remain in any town, village or city of Camelot beyond sunrise to do so would invoke death sentence. Since she was traveling on foot she had a full twenty days to leave the borders of Camelot. It was her plan to cross into Ealdor before that limit lapsed. She'd give Arthur no reason to order her death; she'd not have that on his conscious. She looked again at the sky dotted with summer clouds. She needed something to occupy her time for the next few hours. Gwen got out her needlepoint recalling her mother's words: _"You'll never go hungry as long as you can embroider." _She leaned her back against the trunk of a tree and began. Her plan was to embellish kerchiefs for noblemen and women especially the women to give them as tokens to their beloved. Gwen found her fingers clumsy and awkward as she tried to work and soon she gave up on the embroidery and drifted into her first real sleep in two days.

The cottage was a simple sturdy structure of rough stone and a thatched roof. Gwen could already feel the warmth of its hearth and here she thought she might even find welcome. Still it was with some trepidation that she knocked on her Aunt and Uncle's door.

"What do you want so late in the night?" Her stomach twisted as she heard the annoyance in her Aunt's voice.  
>The door was pulled open and she watched emotions play across Mary's face, annoyance first, then confusion and finally concern- grave concern. She must look like hell.<p>

"Gwen? Come in dear girl. What could possibly be wrong?" Mary pulled her into a tight hug and with a sigh she let herself sink into the older woman's girth. "What's happened? John come tie up Gwen's cart. Let me get you something to eat."  
>She let Mary take charge of her. Let the older woman fix her a bowl of stew and brown bread while her Uncle John took care of her things.<br>"What's happened Gwen? Do you want to talk about it?"

Gwen felt an involuntary shudder at the thought of it.

"Please don't ask me to Auntie Mary. I only ask that you let me sleep here tonight?"

Mary pursed her lips and Gwen thought of her mother, it could be hard to see her Aunts.

"If you insists, but-"

"Just give me a blanket by the fire. I'll be gone at first light and if you ask me no questions and no trouble can come to you." Those words communicated all that Mary needed to know

The older woman's frown deepened and she looked as if she were going to say something, but stopped.  
>"Are you very tired?"<br>"Actually, no I spent much of the day asleep."

"Then John and I will sit up with you for a bit and we can tell you stories about your pa and grandmam and grandsire there's some we haven't told you." Mary's hand closed round her own "Who knows when we shall meet again?"  
>"Thank you Auntie."<p>

When Arthur had pronounced her banishment she had not believed she would laugh again, but here she sat round a fire laughing.  
>"I wish that we could have your cousins over tonight, but only Aaron and his boys are close and they're all down with the chicken pox. Where's your brother?" Uncle John asked.<p>

Gwen only looked at her aunt helplessly.

"Thinks 'cause he's got himself knighted he's too good to help his family." John's voice was heavy with scorn.

"Uncle John it's not like that. He has his oath-"

"-Oath be hanged he could take a few days and see his sister safe. He wouldn't have that knight's position if it weren't for you."

"Yes and then he'd be in trouble too." John and Mary exchanged a look and she realized she'd told them more than intended. "I'm tired." Gwen yawned and they exchanged another look.

"Very well," John said it. "Goodnight my Gwennie."

She smiled at the use of her childhood nickname and accepted goodnight hugs before lying down on a pallet before the fire. Gwen did not let herself sleep as deeply as she'd planned. Her Uncle's words made one thing clear to her. He would not let her go on the road by herself and as much as she might have enjoyed his company she could not let him endanger himself or his household. Somehow she rose before dawn and dressed in silence. Still she could not leave without so much as a farewell. She wrote them a simple note apologizing and bidding them not worry for her or hate or when they learned of the shame she'd brought on her family.

_ The guardsmen's eye's scanned the cell certain he'd seen it earlier that day when they'd brought Guinevere to the King for sentencing. He hadn't had time to grab it just then, but he'd promised himself he'd come back for it. After a moment's search the guardsmen found it in the corner farthest from the door. _

_ It was beautiful, a gleaming silver that seemed to glow as no metal he'd seen before. He knew it was supposed to go either to the King or Guinevere's family, but he doubted the King would be interested in anything from the adulteress and she was not at all close to her brother. He studied the delicately carved metal and thought of Janet, the pretty kitchen maid he'd been courting she would love something like this. _

_ His plan was to propose tonight it would make the perfect gift._


	2. The Exile Chapter: On The Road

The Exile

-Guinevere Alone-

Chapter Two

Guinevere opened her eyes and felt the chill splash of rain on her face. She stuck her head outside. A steady rain – unseasonably cold - fell from the sky. She ducked her head back inside with a sigh and lay down. It had been rain much like this that had fallen on that morning when she'd woken to find Lancelot gone and herself alone with Merlin and Arthur. She bit her bottom lip in annoyance; she hated thinking about that morning. At first it had been because of Lancelot, who had sworn love to her and then abandoned her almost immediately. Later she hated thinking about it for coolness she had shown Arthur though he had no right to expect otherwise at the time. For months after that she had been especially friendly to the Prince of Camelot. Not overtly so, but enough so that he might see that she did not think so very much of Lancelot.

She watched the _splish-splash_ of the water onto her bedding for a while, a puddle was forming. Guinevere cupped her hand under the drip until she held a mouthful. One good thing about a steady rainfall was fresh water for no effort. The would-be Queen drank her mouthful and got up. She could not lie about thinking all day if she was going to escape Camelot in the prescribed period of time.

In this weather there could be no fire so she had a cold breakfast of dried fruits and meat before dressing in soggy clothing and getting on the road for the day. She had to reach Bayberry by nightfall; if for no other reason than a night indoors might allow her things to fully dry. Guinevere studied the sky as she began her day's walk. Silver grey clouds and rain obscured the sun, but even in the grey dimness she could tell the sun was well-up. It seemed each morning that no matter what she told herself before retiring for the night that she woke later and later. At this rate she would need more than the ten days she had initially planned. Gwen tallied her progress; she was averaging about 30 miles daily, not too bad. At this pace she'd reach her destination in 12 days. It still left her an eight day cushion in case of the unexpected.

Perhaps it was the weather, perhaps it was something else, but with the exception of two lone horsemen Gwen had the road to herself for nearly two hours of travel. It was just past mid-morn when she heard the pound of many hooves on the road behind her. Her heart began a _tom-tom_ beat in her breast and she felt a tremble run through her body. She didn't know who the horsemen might be, but she did not want to meet them. Quickly Guinevere turned her cart off the road and hurried into the little dip at the roadside thankful that here, at least, vegetation grew thick, dense and high, and that the road ran higher than the land about it. She forced the cart into the thicket and then dropped flat to wriggle back into the undergrowth herself. Once the shrubbery and grass enclosed her Gwen cleared the screen of vegetation before her eyes. She watched barely daring to breathe as mail-suited men in scarlet capes bearing the sign of the golden dragon rode by. She did not see Sir Leon, Percival, Gwaine, Elyan or heaven forbid Arthur amongst them, but she recognized Sir Kay and a few others. There were certainly knights amongst this group that would recognize her too.

Guinevere may have been perfectly within her rights to use the road, but that did not mean she wanted to see anyone that knew her shame. She lay hidden in the bushes for a very long time after they passed. And as she lay hiding a new thought came to her.

The Knight's mission she could not guess, but she knew people would ask them questions. The people would ask for the news of the Kingdom. They would ask about King Arthur's wedding, about his commoner bride... Her stomach roiled and she tasted bile in the back of her throat as tears moistened her eyes. The gossip would be ahead of her now. It would not be hard to guess who she might be. While it would not be illegal to help her or rent her a room; that did not mean anyone would. She'd have to give a false name, and she'd need a story to explain who she was, why she was on the road by herself. The trembling began anew. Her journey was about to get worse, much worse.

* * *

><p><em>Blue and white silk caressed her skin, flowed over legs; seed pearls gleamed with their iridescence on a web work of pale lilac embroidery. This was the last day her hair would flow freely. When she woke on the morrow she would be a woman wed. Arthur, she thought suddenly of their wedding night…There would be no more resistance of their mutual passion. Indeed their duty to Camelot required them to see their passion for one and other through to its logical conclusion time and again. Gwen felt a pleasant tightening low in her belly as she recalled Arthur's hands slipping across the material of her bodice lower and lower, but always with that fabric betwixt them. Tonight though- Fire coursed through her veins and she looked up from the embroidery of her skirt at the sound of the door opening. <em>

_ Lancelot!_

_ But he was dead!_

_ What was he doing here!_

_ Why was she going to him!_

_ Putting her arms around him!_

_ Touching his lips to hers!_

_ She screamed a soundless stop. Tried to make her body do something, anything: tear away from him, hit him…But she seemed to act under the will of another seemed to be watching from someplace else. Gwen looked away from the couple: saw Arthur in his wedding finery, felt the waves of heart break wash over him, wash over her. _

"Girl!"

_All of hell in his eyes- they were destroying him!_

"Girl!"

_She was destroying him!_

Pain lanced through her side and Guinevere focused on it as an escape from that which she wanted no part of. She opened her eyes to a dark world awash with tears.

"Stupid girl!"

In the flickering light of a single lantern she saw a face hard, bitter and female twisted with annoyance. Guinevere took in the dark room, the plaster wall, and the banked coals of the fireplace. She was in the inn; she'd paid for a pallet on the floor, a place to dry her rain sodden things, two hot meals: supper and breakfast.

"Yer awake at last."

"Yes." She replied, her voice husky with sleep.

"Good I've folded your things for you. Now get you gone."

"It's not sun-up yet."

"No its not and make no mistake I'll not have you here past that time."

She shrank away for a moment.

"That's right I know who you are and if you don't get moving very soon the entire village will know it as well."

"My breakfast-"

"-Is packed and it's more than you deserve, selfish jade. Its women like you that make it hard for the rest of us. Your wash water is heated. It's your choice if you use it, but I expect you out in no more than half-an-hour."

For a long moment Gwen stared at the woman.

"Well get moving."

The would-be queen pushed herself to her feet, ignoring the sigh in her muscles. She washed with the water the woman had promised, dressed and packed her things, taking only enough time to make certain that nothing was left behind. Outside the village Guinevere stopped to eat the breakfast the woman had packed. Stale bread, day old porridge, and boiled eggs made up her meal. The fresh bread the innkeeper had boasted of on the previous night was only beginning to bake as she was getting on the road. When she was done Guinevere probed her aching side with gentle fingers. That woman had kicked her. The easy part of her journey was indeed over.

* * *

><p>Mary awoke to her husband shaking her and his worried face.<p>

"She's gone."

"What?" She glanced to the window the sun wasn't even fully risen.

"Been gone for some time now I think I ran the length of the village and went along the road for a ways no sign of her."

"Blast it."

"She left this note."

He thrust the paper in her direction and she glared at him.

"Sorry." He apologized and began reading.

_**'Dear Aunt & Uncle,**_

_**I am so sorry to leave without saying good-bye, but I feared that you would endanger yourselves by trying to accompany me or keep me from leaving altogether. I love you both too much to allow that. You have probably guessed that I have been banished from court and all of Camelot. I have only myself to blame for this. I cannot yet put into writing all that has happened, but I know you will learn in time.**_

_**When you do learn please forgive me for the shame I have brought upon my family. Also please do not be angry with Elyan. If you knew all that had passed you would understand his actions and he is also our family.**_

_**I am making for Ealdor and shall write to you when I am settled there.**_

_**Love Your Niece,**_

_**Gwen'**_

"That child she is just like her mother!" Mary snatched the letter from her husband and studied it as if she might learn something more of her niece's fate from it.

"What d'you suppose might have happened?"

"How should I know?" She glared and saw him pull back a bit. "Sorry, I'm just so worried about her." The older woman got out of bed. "She's Jane's only daughter and the only one that looks anything like grandmam and she's leaving us too now."

"She seemed so happy when she was here before." John mused.

"Yes she did. She and the king seemed so in love." Mary sighed and pulled her shawl around her shoulders. "It was sweet the way the two of them were. Reminded me of you and I when we were young."

"Well then everything will be all right." John got to his feet.

"What do you mean by that?"

He gave her arms an affectionate squeeze.

"If he loves her half as much as I love you then everything will work itself out."

"That's sweet John, but it's not safe out there alone."

"I know and that's why I am going to go and look for her."

"Thank you." She smiled finally.

"Think about this though. Gwen is smart, and brave, and resourceful, and regardless of how hard things are getting for her she will be fine."

"I hope you're right."

* * *

><p>Gwen lit her lamp and worried over the waste of fuel. She <em>shouldn't<em> have been trying to camp in the dark, she _should_ have selected her campsite long before now, but then she should have been sleeping on a pallet indoors.

The young woman looked over her should in the direction of Breghed. The only person that had recognized her in Bayberry had been the innkeeper's wife. In Breghed two days later everyone seemed to have a guess about who she might be and though by law she could have stayed in the village she'd been met with glares. She'd finally approached a tall, dark-haired woman that looked less hostile than everyone else. The woman had glared, said some very unpleasant things and slammed her door. None of the other villagers looked any friendlier and Gwen had hurried through as fast as she could.

It was impossible really to look for a campsite in the dark. The waning moon was less than half full now, its light did not penetrate the forest and her little lantern only gave her a view of a few feet. What if she accidentally selected a game trail or some such? What if she fell and broke her neck?

"Guinevere." A woman's voice called to her from the darkness, "You don't know me, but I want to help you."

She looked in the speaker's direction.

"They're wrong, you know. I mean, to turn you out like this. If the King had wanted you dead he'd have ordered your execution and he didn't. So who are we to turn death into exile?"

A dark-haired woman came into view and Gwen stared in surprise.

"You-"

Gwen recognized the woman that had called her names and slammed the door in her face.

"-I'm sorry. My name is Tilda and I have my own reputation to consider."

"Come I know these woods. There's a ruined mansio not far at all, but you'd never find it if you didn't know where to look for it. "

Each of them took hold of the cart with a hand piece and held their lanterns high with the other. Tilda led her to a collapsing villa.

"It's not as nice as it was during the days of the empire, but people respect the traditions around it still and you should be safe here."

They found a stonewalled room and Tilda got a fire going while Gwen unpacked the things she'd need for the night.

"Since it's not part of the village you won't have to hurry off."

When the fire was crackling merrily, Tilda handed her a parcel and turned to go.

"Wait a moment. Thank you, but why?"

"My sister was an adulteress, she suffered mightily for it."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Tilda hurried off into the dark. "I'll try to come by in the morning."

Gwen unwrapped the parcel and felt her mouth water as the fragrance of roast pigeon wafted toward her.

* * *

><p><em>"I truly don't understand it all, but Leolin and I are finished."<em>

_ "Just like that! But only three days ago he was talking about going to your father and he gave you that lovely bracelet. It can't be over Janet."_

_ Janet's eyes strayed to the gleaming band of silver on her wrist. She recalled the guilty pleasure of Neiren's arms. _

_ "You can have it." Janet slipped the band from her wrist and placed it in Mared's palm._


	3. The Exile Chapter: Break Down

It had rained whilst she slept. Water glistened on tree leaves, puddles dotted the crumbling halls of the mansio and birdsong filled the morning air as robins, sparrows and jays took advantage of tiny rivers formed during the night. She had explored the mansio briefly this morning. There wasn't really very much to see, most if it had crumbled through the centuries since its abandonment. The only remotely solid room was the one Tilda had brought her to.

The room located in the heart of the mansio, shielded on all sides by other crumbling rooms. The ceiling was mostly whole and again Guinevere assumed that it was the interior location that had protected it. Even the elements had worn away the ceiling and walls so that rain and sun leaked through.

Guinevere studied her map under the sun's weak watery light. She was halfway to the border and she still hadn't made a decision about Ealdor or Wyeledon. The sensible choice was Ealdor, she knew people there, and would be made very welcome. She could probably set up a very simple existence, get a cottage built do some farming. She'd lived most of her life in the city but as a child when she'd visited her Aunt and Uncle's she'd helped them with farming and chores she could do that work, live that life. Something inside of her resisted the idea of that simplicity though. She wondered about Wyeledon, a place she had never been with people she had never known. She studied the chain Sir Gwaine had given her and its strange five-petaled flower. Adras Five Hands? What kind of name was that? And what kind of friends did _Gwaine _have?

Guinevere traced the simple lines of the heart shaped petals and considered the things she knew about Gwaine. He was charming, a flirt, disdained nobility until proven otherwise and he could be a bit of a hot-head, but he also had his own sense of honor and decency. She couldn't imagine him doing anything cruel or truly evil. So perhaps his friends were not so bad? Arthur and Merlin were his friends. She was his friend. She heard footsteps and tucked the chain under her blouse next to the ring Arthur had given her.

"Gwen?"

She looked up and saw Tilda.

"Good morning." She gave the other woman a smile. Seeing Tilda in the daylight Gwen realized that the other woman was quite handsome. Glossy black hair framed a pretty if strong face and dark brown eyes rich with secrets measured her in return.

"I've brought you some milk and fresh bread with butter and honey."

Guinevere felt a smile overtake her face. She hadn't had milk since last spring and fresh bread was always a treat. Tilda hand her a cloth wrapped loaf and a little stone jug of creamy milk. For a moment she couldn't decide which to have first. Then she unstoppered the jug and sipped at the milk. It was heavy and slightly warm; with sweet rich bits of pulpy cream. She savored the weight and richness of it letting her tongue absorb the taste as she swallowed the cream beverage down. When it was down she smacked her lips a few times tasting all that was left in her mouth before unwrapping the bread. The oven fresh scent still clung to it. It wasn't a soft white bread as was served to royals and nobles, but instead a hearty brown with nutty flavors and rough texture like the difference betwixt linen and silk. Guinevere bit down into the bread the sweetness of honey and rich of butter making a perfect harmony with its nutty flavor. She savored this too, licking the crumbs from her fingers when she was done.

"Thank you Tilda so much." Gwen wiped her fingers on the cloth the bread had been wrapped in and Tilda only gave her a smile.

"How long will you remain?"

"Not long I have to reach Ealdor in ten days."

Tilda's lips pressed into a thin line and she thought maybe the older woman was thinking.

"You'll continue on the Southern road?"

"Yes."

"Have you a map?"

"Yes actually." She produced the piece of worked leather that Gwaine made his map from. Tilda studied it briefly.

"I can find the road, but not where we might be."

"I've studied a bit. I think we are perhaps here." She had managed to identify Bayberry and a couple of other landmarks. Tilda looked at the map again.

"If we're here," She placed on stubby nailed finger on the map "and south is that way then I can give you an idea of where other mansio might be."

Gwen felt her face brighten.

"They're about 30 miles apart and run the length of the road. The next one might be here and then here." Tilda pointed to two spots on the map that looked like nothing more than forest. "Hand me your knife." The older woman scored the leather in two places.

"How will I know where to look for them?"

"I'll show you."

Tilda got to her feet and Guinevere did the same. The two women walked along the halls of the mansio to its courtyard and there in the gaping hole that must have been the doorway.

"Here and here." The other woman crouched and indicated sunken moss cover stones that must have once lined either of a now overgrown path. "They go all the way to the road the markers would be difficult to spot if you don't know what to look for."

"You seem to know so much about these stations."

"My family's people came to Wales to run the stations."

"Oh."

"I must get back. If I don't see you again God bless."

"You also and thank you," Guinevere said with a smile and watched the other woman head into the forest.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Elyan sat on Guinevere's narrow bed, let his eyes travel over the furnishings of his sister's home, his family's home. Things were missing, some practical, some sentimental like the Kente cloth that had been their grandmothers, or the simple jewelry their father had made for their mother. He couldn't really be mad at Guinevere for taking those things. Elyan took note of the dust gathering on the tables and shelves. Gwen wouldn't like that. He got to his feet, picked up her broom and began sweeping the floors. When he'd done Elyan went down to the town well with a bucket. It was his day off and he was spending it working. Back at her house he added lye soap to the water and started scrubbing her floors. <em>**

**_He'd told himself that it was okay to be angry at her, to not put himself at risk for her. After all look at what she had done. She had played with both of their lives and stupidly so no less. She had stood to gain everything, climb as high as one could and what had she done…? Women had been beheaded for adultery and yes she and the King were not yet married, but a betrothal was essentially the same. What could a man expect from a woman that betrayed without provocation on the night before their wedding? It disgusted him and yet- When Gwaine had come to him told him of the collection being taken up by the staff, that he'd planned to meet her just outside the walls of the lower town Elyan had found himself giving Gwaine his first true knife and money and telling him to tell his sister that he loved her._**

**_She could have been beheaded-_**

_**-She could have been beheaded and here he was cleaning her little home, making it tidy as if she might walk through that door, as if she weren't out somewhere in the world beyond the safe walls of Camelot. Furious, Elyan took out his rage out on her floors and begged God to keep his sister safe.** _

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><p>Guinevere stared at river flowing rough and choppy, well beyond its banks. How had not planned for this? Rain for days and spring melt meant rivers overflowing their banks, meant floods, meant bridges underwater or washed away all together. The bridge of course was built at the narrowest part of river which was also the deepest. Flooding had pushed the murky, silty water up over the bridge and well onto the road. One could not look at river and even believe such a thing as a bridge existed.<p>

"What-" she felt the rise of despair and fought it.

A large man that reminded Guinevere of her Uncle John clucked his tongue.

"Well this is no surprise."

"Hmmm?"

"This river overflows every spring."

"Oh."

"Though I don't think it's ever been this bad."

"I have to cross it."

"Well there's a town a few miles back you might be able to get someone with a boat to take you across."

She said nothing.

"You could try to ford the river or caulk your wagon and float across."

Still she was silent.

"Well I'm going back. If you decide to ford which would certainly be the safest option the river widens out about three day's walk west." The man turned and began walking back the way they'd come.

Guinevere considered her situation. The river was choppy and moving fast. She was a good swimmer, but the current looked dangerous and her food and other supplies would be ruined by a soaking. She looked west into the woods at the tall wide trunks of the trees; a bridal convoy could pass through easily. Fording certainly seemed the safest. With a resigned sigh she turned off the convenient roman road and headed west into the woods.

She only learned the true weight of her cart as she made her way through the woods. On the smooth road it had flowed along with ease. On an uneven forest floor where roots and stones may be over looked, where the ground dipped, rose and seemed to fight the cart's progress Guinevere found herself truly working to keep her things with her, work that left her aching and sore and tired on the second morning and feeling quite alone.

There were birds, rabbits, squirrels, chipmunks, cats, foxes, deer, and so many other creatures running the woods and all coming to the river to drink. There were wildflowers in so many precious colors, bees, dragonflies, butterflies and frogs, lizards, the occasional snake all making their own sounds, croaking ,chirping, thumping, howling and singing a whole forest full of lovely, sweet life. By the second day of this walk along the river for Guinevere it may well have been deadly silent for it was lonely. The animals all seemed to live in groups and families, talk to each other in their own languages keep distant from her and her cart. Even as public opinion had started to turn against her she had still encountered friendly strangers who either didn't know what she had done or didn't care. She could share news, hear gossip and stories, trade jokes, but now-

-now with no distractions her mind roamed into places she did not want to go. She found her thoughts winding back to Camelot and her friends. Had Janet's guardsmen ever proposed? What of Enid? Enid had turned her back on her, but then given her a gift. She thought about Merlin and Elyan; wondered if things might have been different if she'd made more time for her brother. She thought of- Guinevere told herself not to think about it, to look for medicinal herbs, edible berries to watch the animals that peopled the forest.

She stopped and unbuckled her cape. For the first time in many days the sun shone bright and clear and as it drew towards it zenith Guinevere felt a sweat break-out on her skin. She stood for a moment and let the breeze flow over her before discarding her cape completely. This was her third day walking west, the river certainly seemed widest her. She picked up a small branch and tossed it into the current and watched it meander downstream. Gwen decided to try crossing here.

Guinevere unpacked the cart and studied the contents. She used putty to block up a few cracks and holes and then began putting everything back. The swords, being least likely to be damaged by a little water went first, next her cooking utensils, comb, clothing, her limited supply of cosmetics and toiletries and finally food. Most of the food was dried. She put some aside to go into her satchel and rest she wrapped in oiled cloth and placed on the top. Over it all blanket that served as her tent. She secured the load with rope and turned to what remained. In a smaller oiled cloth she wrapped the letters of recommendation and tucked them into the satchel, with that went some of her food, the simple jewelry her father had made for her mother, the pendant she'd gotten from Gwaine and her money. With everything packed to her satisfaction Guinevere put on her cape and secured the satchel to her chest well above where she expected the water to be and steered her cart into the river.

The water churned swiftly about her legs, she had grown used to the chill and her flesh no longer shrunk from it. The cart was gaining water and so gaining weight, Guinevere ignored this. She was nearly halfway across and once on the southern bank this little detour on her journey would be over. For all that she did not want to leave Camelot; reaching Ealdor would be no little relief.

The young woman tugged the cart handle as her momentum halted for the second time. If she had considered the difficulty of tugging the cart across and uneven and rocky riverbed she would have taken her chances trying to float across. Too late for that though she was committed now. The cart caught again on some unseen underwater obstacle and Guinevere pulled hard in frustration. Whatever it was the blocked her progress now seemed more solidly lodged than previous obstacles and Gwen dug her heels in pulling with all the strength of her young body.

Once when Guinevere was still quite young she and Elyan had been playing, chasing one and other through town. She had run into the back of some shop -Elyan hard on her heels- and pulled the door shut. He had grabbed the doorknob and pulled hard. Guinevere of course being older and stronger held the door easily, but she let him pull and pull, felt him digging in with all his might and she waited. Waited while the tension gathered, waited until she could feel his resistance in every line of her body…And in the exact moment that she released her hold on the doorknob she knew. Knew that the tension she had let build was too much, the momentum too strong, knew that her brother would be thrown down hard. Guinevere shot through the door as her brother tumbled backwards, knocking his head on a stone.

In the instant before the cart lunged forward, knocking her legs out from beneath her, shoving her below the river's surface and sending her tumbling into the current she knew. She knew it just long enough to take breath as ice water closed over her head.

The current was fast and muddy and thick with things stolen by the spring swell. Branches, bushes, animals caught unawares and drowned, all of them in the same trap. Guinevere paid them no heed. She saw the cart downriver the current taking it further west. Gwen knew she should probably make for the other side, give up on the cart, but the remnants of her past were in that cart as well as the foundations o f her future. Smart or foolish she dove into the current.

Guinevere ignored the chill weight of her clothing and swam straight for her cart all the power of the current directly behind her. She reached the cart easily only to have it snatched away from her reaching hands as the water whipped her round a bend. She went under for a moment, swallowed a bit of water and kicked to the surface. The water was moving fast now. It flowed and dipped over hills that gently rolling, but descended with force and strength while in water. The current whipped her past a boulder and she had but a moment to brace herself as she smashed against a second outcropping of rock.

Stars dancing before her eyes Guinevere rode down the river in a daze the chill of the water getting into her bones. When her mind cleared the sun was well past its zenith. The current seemed to soften then and instinctively Gwen struck for the southern bank. She cut through the deeper waters with ease and was soon in the shallows crawling and then stumbling up the muddy bank to collapse onto sun-warmed dry grass.

The cart was gone and with it the remnants of her life. The future she had planned to finance on selling the swords her father had left behind, the Kente cloth her great-grandmother had brought from her homeland -a gift from a now dead King-, her food, clothing supplies all gone. Could she even reach the boarder now? Dully Guinevere reached into the neck of her tunic and found Arthur's ring present on the leather thong she wore there. Elyan's knife was still securely belted to her waist.

Relief seemed to flood her and the would-be-Queen sunk into it. Let weak fingers play along that simple circle of precious metal and for a moment she imagined none of that had happened. Remembered instead that summer afternoon when she and Arthur slipped away from the heat of the palace to take a break from their duties and dip their feet into the cooling waters of the river. Uther lay sick in the palace, there was work to do, but for a brief snatched moment they sat side-by-side ankles touching, hands finding each other to interlace for just a quiet moment. The world fell away and peace descended over them. The warmth of Arthur's hand, the heat of the summer sun, these things reached out to her from memory and warmed her for just a moment. But her mind could not settle in that moment-

-The satchel which held so much of importance, it was still with her, but the leather was soaked and stiff.

"Oh god please…"

With aching fingers and a sick stomach Guinevere fumbled the satchel open and dumped the contents. Her mother's jewelry remained unchanged and the coins as well. Her soggy ruined food she tossed aside, there was no point in fretting over that. The references though…Wet the paper resists her efforts to pull free and after a few false starts they come loose with a wet sucking sound. Fingers trembling Guinevere breaks the seal of wax already knowing what she will find. They are both the same the dark ink has run with the water into one long black blur.

The tears came down then, dreaded, hated they poured forth. Tears did not save her mother, nor her father, they did not call Elyan when she needed him most. When Uther would have burnt her at the stake tears did not sway him to mercy and now they did not keep her at Arthur's side. Drained of everything she could not resist them now, the tears flowed and the wail that had been building in her belly since she threw herself between Arthur and Lancelot clawed its way up and out.

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><p><strong><em>Everyday Mared looked at the bracelet and everyday she thought about wearing it. But what did she need with such things as bracelets? Still it was lovely and every morning when her eyes fell upon it she studied it longer and thought of it more and more. Still she had no time for bracelets, bracelets were for noblewomen who had little work with their hands and would never be up their elbows in bread dough. Still in the small hours of the morning and the late hours of the evening her eyes traced its flowing lines and one evening she slipped it over her wrist. The metal was warm against her skin and even though she knew she should take it off the older woman could not quite bring herself to remove it.<em>**

**_She slept almost the moment her head hit the pillow. A field somewhere outside of the walls of Camelot and when she looked down at her young hands she was not surprised to find another equally youthful brown hand holding hers. _**

**_"Linnet," Mared said the other girl's name and met her warm brown eyes._**

**_"Yes?"_**

**_Linnet's smile was mischievous; Mared could feel the young woman's thumb making slow, gentle circles on the back of her hand. She watched the mischievous expression become warm and serious. Knew what Linnet intended but did not pull away. She gave into the other girl's kisses and softness. Let Linnet lay her down in the fields under the bright blue sky. Felt and gave pleasure at the hands and mouth of her friend that she could never have or give to a man. Later they lay staring up at the clouds talking of how they might run away to the circus or some such. _**

_**Mared woke in the morning to her husband and children whom she loved, but her mind was in her past.**_

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><p>*I know a few folks were really waiting for this chapter and apologize. My life got a little hectic at holiday time and then other things happened, but hopefully I'll be going back to a more regular publishing schedule.<p>

*A/N the mansio were part of the system of Roman way-stations or hotels built along the roads to help move people and goods through the Empire. Camelot may well have been along one of those roads. No Beta this week, but I've reviewed this chapter a lot so hopefully its a-okay.

*Please review, it makes all the difference. Reviews are the only payment fanfic authors have.


	4. The Exile: Interlude

**The Exile**

**-Guinevere Alone-**

**Interlude 1**

_This interlude features some characters we've yet to see in The Exile: Merlin,Arthur and Agravaine._**  
><strong>

Merlin

This was wrong. Merlin woke with that thought on the second morning of Guinevere's exile. It stayed with him as he got out of bed, washed-up, dressed, got Arthur's breakfast and hurried to the King's chambers to wake him. Merlin had decided that it was best not to dwell on the subject for Arthur's sake and to behave as if life were normal for the moment. He entered Arthur's receiving room breakfast in hand, prepared to wake the King and found him up, dressed and ready for the day.

"Ahhh Merlin perfect timing." Arthur shut the door to his inner chambers and straightened his jerkin. "I've already reviewed my schedule for the day and I'm heading for the council chamber. Find my uncle and send him to him to me."

The king strode across the room, took his breakfast from the tray and headed down the hall whistling.

Merlin watched the King stride down the hall mouth agape. Of everything that he had planned for he certainly hadn't expected this. With Arthur already dressed and ready for his day Merlin had a little extra time. He found a page in the hall and told him to send Agravaine to the King in the council chambers and went to straighten up Arthur's room before joining Arthur in the aforementioned hall. It took nothing to straighten up the King's receiving room, Arthur's taste were Spartan in nature and though he was not the neatest man her really left very little mess behind. So Merlin was only expecting make Arthur's bed, gather a few items for the laundry and maybe put away a few scrolls. He wasn't expecting the wreck in he found in the King's private chambers. Every piece of furniture save the four-poster had been turned over, the drapes had been pulled down and destroyed, papers and scrolls were strewn everywhere. It looked as of the room had been destroyed for the sake of pure chaos. Worried suddenly Merlin hurried to the council chamber to make certain nothing had happened.

-"The Picts your majesty?"

Merlin heard Agravaine asking as he entered. Everything looked normal so nothing had happened to Arthur.

"Yes it's very important all of the people of this Kingdom need to know how their King values them."

"The Picts are nothing, but bog dwellers!"

"That's as may be, but if you're serving Camelot _Uncle_ that is where you'll be serving Camelot from otherwise you're free to leave my service and my Kingdom."

"But sire surely I'm of more help to you here."

Arthur's eyes met Agravaine's and _Merlin _felt the chill of that cool blue gaze.

"Your King has given you an order. Are you objecting to that order Lord Agravaine?"

Agravaine's face paled.

"Of course not sire." Agravaine bowed.

"You're dismissed." Arthur waved his hand casually and Merlin watched the other man walk away.

"You're sending Agravaine away?"

"Yes. The bog-dwellers as he so eloquently put it need a representative of the crown and I'm sick of looking at him who better than my _Uncle_." Merlin said nothing pleased that Agravaine was finally gone.

"Sire your rooms are-"

"Yes I had a little accident sorry for the mess."

"Little?"

"Little."

The edge in Arthur's voice told Merlin the subject was closed.

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><p>This is just a short Interlude. Don't forget to read Chapter 4 The Bear, the Bird and the Bandit. I do love comments so please leave one.<p> 


	5. The Exile: The Bear,the Bird and the Ban

**The Exile**

**-Guinevere Alone-**

**Chapter 4: The Bear, the Bird and the Bandit**

_This chapter is a little different from the others. Gwen's been having a hard time and I've decided to add a bit of humor, I hope it works. _**  
><strong>

Shaking in every limb, Guinevere wanted to merely collapse where she stood. But it was early yet, and she would not sleep as well on the bare forest floor as she would on a bed of grass and leaves. In the fading evening light, she ripped tufts of grass from the ground and stripped leaves from bushes. As she did so, Gwen scanned the forest flint rocks and edible leaves. By the time full dark came she had bed several inches high, mint leaves to chew, flint, and lavender leaves. With her bed made, she crushed lavender and spread it round her bed. The strong scent would discourage most predators. She'd also made her bed at the base of a tree just in case she needed a quick escape. With her bedding arranged Guinevere got to work on a fire. After a short while she laid down to sleep in cheery orange light.

Bunnies were the cutest animals surely, Guinevere thought to herself as she watched two cottontails, no more than a month old, hop over each other. One thumped the other in the head, and her mouth quirked up a bit at that. She knew she should be on the move, making her way back to the road; she should be walking south getting out of Camelot. Gwen put another mint leaf in her mouth and watched the puffy white tails disappear into the forest.

"All right, Guinevere, time to start your day." She pushed herself to her feet and fell back against the tree she'd based her camp at- legs watery-weak, eyes closed against the world's spinning. Gwen slid down into her bed of grass and sat unmoving until the nausea in her stomach subsided. She cracked one eye open and saw thankfully that the world had stilled. Her limbs continued to tremble, though, and Gwen knew she wasn't going far just yet. The ordeal on the river had been more draining than she realized. Tomorrow she would go on the road, now Gwen shut her eyes and let herself drift off into sleep.

Hours later, she awoke, parched and made her way back to the river on shaking feet. Guinevere drank her fill of the chill spring water and headed back to her little camp. As she walked, Gwen spied a patch of strawberries she had somehow missed yesterday. She didn't have much of an appetite, but the would-be-Queen knew she needed to eat something. The young woman filled her cape with a feast of berries.

She woke late on the second day, feeling no more inclined to stir than she had on the first. Still, Gwen forced herself from her wilted bed and made her way back to the river for water, thinking. She really didn't know where she was, where she was going or what she might do when she got there and she'd lost just about everything. The lethargy she'd woken with on the previous morning seemed to have gotten stronger. Guinevere listened to blue jays sing and tried to braid her tangled, matted hair.

On the third day, she managed to throw a rock and kill one of those adorable bunnies that seemed to enjoy hanging about. It felt mean, but she was hungry. Quickly, she skinned, spitted the animal and set it above her fire to roast. While it roasted, she scraped the fat from the skin and set it to dry. The entrails, organs and such she buried several feet from her camp. When the rabbit was done roasting she ate it with several handfuls of berries. She should be on the move, but who would ever know she was here? Perhaps she could just stay here in the woods. Maybe she didn't have to choose.

Guinevere opened her eyes. Why did her foot hurt? She looked down and saw her foot in the mouth of a large brown bear with a torn ear. Without thinking, Guinevere screamed and kicked the bear with her free leg. The bear looked up in puzzlement. She screamed again and leapt to her feet. _She absolutely had to get away!_ Thankful she'd placed her camp at the base of a tree Guinevere turned and shined up the tree's trunk until she was high, high in its branches and hopefully out of the bear's reach. The bear seemed to agree, as it didn't attempt to climb the tree, but sat back on its haunches and let out a roar. Metallic taste in her mouth body trembling with reaction the young woman stared at the bear and tried to think.

"Go away!"

The bear merely looked at her and then it stood up on its hind legs and leaned its bulk against the tree. She screamed as her perch began to sway. How could she make this bear go away?

A nest perched precariously in the branches above caught her eyes. Guinevere pulled herself up as carefully as she could and found several eggs in the nest. Before she could question the wisdom of her next action, she forced her thumb through the top of one egg, made a hole and sucked down the contents. Then she lobbed one of the eggs at the bear who caught it, and as she had done a moment earlier cracked and drained it. Perhaps it could get full on eggs. Feeling a twinge of guilt, Guinevere began throwing the eggs at the bear. The bear seemed to think this was a great trick for it stopped shaking the tree and began chasing the eggs, catching and eating them with relish. The she heard a sound she'd been dreading, the call of an angry crow. With trembling fingers, Gwen yanked her hood up and dipped her face toward her chest. Not a moment later pain lanced through her scalp as she felt the bird's claws closing into the fabric of her cape. Gwen closed one hand around a tree limb and tried to think. Her knife belt! She didn't think she could stab the crow, but she might be able to swing the belt and strike it with the hilt. Ignoring the pain in her head, the girl fumbled her belt off and swung it up over her head. Her first blow struck home and the startled bird released her and flew upwards shrieking with rage.

Fearing to do so, but knowing she had no choice, Guinevere raised her head and felt her mouth go dry. The crow -black beak gleaming- was coming at her in a dive. Somehow, she kept her face upturned and waited-

-She had to hit it the first time. There wouldn't be a second chance. The crown came into sharp clear focus, drew nearer-

-She swung out, her aim more true than she could have ever hoped. Guinevere never knew if she stunned the bird or worse, but it dropped suddenly falling with the weight of a stone right into the outstretched paws of the bear. The bear, of course, found this to be an even better bounty and Guinevere heard the sound of bones snapping as ursine jaws closed round the crow's neck. She hoped he would be satisfied with her unintended gift.

The bear devoured the crow in a few bites and just as suddenly as it seemed to have come; it lumbered off into the woods. Still sitting in the tree Guinevere pulled off her boot and checked her left foot there were only bruises- no blood. She sat a while in the tree and when the bear did not reappear, slid down to the ground. She looped the satchel across her body and took off at a brisk march, feeling more energetic than she had in days.

Rather than going toward the road, Guinevere made up her mind to head south for the next four days. That would bring her well out of Camelot; the forest would provide everything she needed. On the fifth morning she would head west until she found the road. From there Gwen decided she would find Ealdor or some other village. The moon rode full and white in the sky making it possible for her to travel well into the night. Still feeling the burst of energy from the morning's encounter Guinevere he did not make her camp until what must have been well past midnight.

The following morning the extra strength that had come to her seemed to be gone again. But she had a plan now and Guinevere forced herself to continue forward. She stopped at a more reasonable hour and got her camp laid by sundown. Perhaps tomorrow she would rest. In the morning, she woke to the sight of the bear with the torn ear sitting calmly beside her exhausted fire.

How long she'd been running for, Guinevere had no idea. The bear didn't seem to be following her; in fact it hadn't seemed particularly dangerous, but she didn't want to take any chances. She'd always been told not to feed bears. Did this one expect just that? She'd fed it once already. Could she still be in its territory? She'd just keep moving sooner or later she _must _leave it behind.

On the fourth morning Guinevere awoke to something far less pleasant than a bear. She opened her dark eyes and meet a pair of cold green ones staring down at her from the grinning face of a bearded man. Gwen reached instantly for her knife and her stomach twisted sickeningly as he waved Elyan's knife at her. He crouched at her side.

"You're a nice friendly girl, ain't ya?" She felt the sting of the blade pressed against her throat. "Ain't ya?"

"Yes," Gwen whispered it, as still as she'd ever been in life.

"Good, now you just lie there."

The man straddled her, dispelling any hopes that she'd had that he was simply a thief.

"You're pretty, too."

For some reason this statement made her angry.

"You just finish your business and get out of here." If he was going to rape her, he was going to rape her. She was not going to let him pretend that this was some sweet little fantasy. The man growled and punched her.

Perhaps it was supposed to quell her, frighten her, it didn't. Instead Guinevere felt rage well up from somewhere in the pit of her stomach. Rage for kissing Lancelot, rage for losing Arthur, rage for being turned away from Bayberry, rage for losing her home, rage for being attacked by bears and crows, for being abandoned by her brother. For every shit thing that was her life rage fired her fist into the bastard's face. He seemed to be stunned by her resistance. Guinevere shoved him off of her and got to her feet. He did too. He lunged at her and she didn't care. He was stronger than he looked, but she fought him anyway, flailing with fist and feet, biting if he got a hold of her. Somehow though, he got her down again and put a rough hand around her throat. That was when the bear came lumbering out of the woods with a roar. The man stared in shock. Gwen didn't. She punched him in the throat, rolled to her knees and shoved him straight toward the bear. Guinevere grabbed the satchel Gwaine had given her and took off for the boarder at run, never happier to leave Camelot.

Later, when she caught her breath- when she took a moment to rest, she'd bring her slender fingers to rest just below the pulse at her throat, looking for the comfort that laying a hand against Arthur's ring brought. That would be later and she'd find no comfort in that gesture.

The ring was gone.

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><p>Hi everyone. Sorry for the delay on this update. I've been sick and had some technical difficulties as well. This chapter finishes out part 1. Part two will have Gwen out of the woods, meeting new people and making new friends. It'll also be time to hear from the men as they struggle with the fall-out from the events in 4x9. Please remember to comment whether you liked the story or not.<p> 


	6. The Exile Chapter: Class Warfare

**The Exile**

**-Guinevere Called Jenafere-**

**Chapter 5: Class Warfare**

Elyan sniffed, the pungent honeyed smell of sweet basil and rosewood hung in the air. He crossed the armory to place his weapons and armor in their racks, the ever present smell of the sand and vinegar used to clean the armor grew stronger as he walked further into the room. Sunlight glinted on his breast plate and for a moment the young knight studied the reflection of his dark face, sometimes he saw her there-

"Well done on the drills." Percival's compliment brought him into the moment.

"Thanks," he murmured, "We've been working hard. Perhaps we will see some action soon."

"We will." Percival said it with such certainty that if it had been anyone else he would have suspected witchery or treachery, but with Percival it was just the big man's deliberate nature that gave certainty to his words- that or his imposing height.

"Elyan, Gwaine when you've done step into my office." Leon called them from the door of his study. It was phrased politely and pleasantly, but both men hurried to finish putting their armor away.

"You two are in trouble." Percival grinned at them and there were sniggers from Sir Kay and Sir Gareth.

"Elyan, you been out to the taverns with this one again?" Sir Bedivere's voice rumbled and the one-armed man studied them with a grin. He knew his fellow knights were teasing them, but he felt vaguely uncomfortable. Only he and Gwaine had been singled out, the two commoner-Knights.

"A man's gotta have some fun right? Come on." Gwaine dropped a friendly arm around his shoulders and the two knights headed toward Sir Leon's office.

"Any ideas?" Elyan asked Gwaine in loud whisper as they drew out of earshot of their fellows.

"None," was the taller knight's only reply.

The senior knight sat not at his desk, but on a short bench beneath the office's only window. His armor had been replaced with a green quilted surcoat. The room was small and bright, the window taking full advantage of the westward sun. Leon burned more basil and rosemary and the scent of vinegar and sweat disappeared. His office boasted a desk –on its surface- several furled and unfurled scrolls, quill and ink, and set of shelves holding several heavy tomes. Leon served as knight Captain, senior most of them all, he was one of the few that could read and write a legible hand. After each practice he filled a page in their log and after every trip he spent hours in his office filling writing- well Elyan didn't know what. He also requisitioned all their food and supplies.

"The two of you did well today as always." Leon's posture was perfect, back straight, shoulders square, right ankle resting on left knee.

"Thank you sir," they said it in unison.

"Have a seat."

The two men sat on the wooden stools that faced the bench.

"Every month the knight report is given at council. Usually the Knight Captain gives the report. This month," Leon paused and stroked his beard, "his majesty has requested that the two of you give the report."

Elyan and Gwaine looked at each other and then back at Leon.

"Us," again they spoke in concert even as they pointed at one and other.

"That's right."

"No offense Leon, but bureaucracy makes my balls itch. Why aren't you giving it?" Gwaine asked that question and Elyan waited for Leon's answer. The senior knight frowned somewhat disapprovingly. "The king has ordered it." He paused for a moment. "You're to give the report, answer any questions and remain for the rest of the session. You won't be there long. Lord Troy's petition is the only one that follows."

"You and his majesty are both forgetting one very important fact. Neither of us can read." Elyan raised this snag.

Leon leaned back in his chair and smoothed the space between his brows with an index finger.

"I explained all this to his majesty; he said to have you commit it to memory. Council is in two days. We start now. I've ordered your lunch. You'll have it here." Leon sighed and studied them for a moment. "I'll be so glad when the new education law goes into effect," he muttered more to himself, than the others. "Let us begin."

"Very well," Elyan said. Clearly the decision had been made already. "Gwaine can take the first half; I'll take the second." He grinned cheekily at his comrade and the other man glared at him.

"Good." Leon opened one of the scrolls and began reading. "In the month of March, the Knights of Camelot were sent on four expeditions and completed daily training without fail. There were ten minor injuries, three serious injuries and no fatalities." Leon paused and read it again.

Elyan forced himself to focus. This was going to be a very long afternoon.

* * *

><p>Elyan yawned and a moment later Gwaine and Leon did the same. The second six hour candle they'd lit that evening had burned into puddle of wax supporting a sorry little flame, a stack of plates sat on Leon's desk and his eyes were starting to sting just a bit.<p>

"I think this is probably as much as can be done tonight." Leon looked over a scroll "Elyan, you're right, don't try to commit weapons and armor sections to memory. You know it well enough to ad libitum. Gwaine, don't go out drinking for the next few nights."

Gwaine's dark eyes met Leon's and the knight Captain held them with such firmness that the other man was forced to look away.

"Very well I'll stay out of the taverns until after the report."

"Report here immediately after practice tomorrow and we'll do it all again." Leon gave them a small encouraging smile.

"I have a two o'clock fitting with Mr. Bloome," Elyan said.

Leon looked thoughtful for a moment "Suit of clothes for Earl of Sussex's ball?"

Elyan nodded.

"Very well I'll see you here after the fitting and Gwaine can have my undivided attention for a couple of hours."

"Great." Gwaine graced them with a grimace of a smile.

The three men got to their feet and headed to their respective beds.

* * *

><p>Bloome's shop didn't have many windows, but he made up for it with candles. Candlelight glowed gently on wooden floors and benches polished gleaming with fragrant pine oil. Elyan was not the only customer awaiting Bloome. Two young noblemen sat on another bench waiting. The knight had been friendly to them at first, but when they barely acknowledged him, Elyan had sunk into his own thoughts.<p>

"Sir Elyan," The tailor's youngest apprentice called him, voice cracking with adolescence.

He rose and started toward Mr. Bloome's fitting room.

"Just a moment, Sir Elyan" Bloome's assistant, Awstin a tall fellow with dull brown hair, seemed to appear from nowhere. "Mr. Bloome is quite busy with a large order and, as he does not wish to cause you any undue trouble has, advised me to recommend several alternatives."

Elyan frowned, like the rest of the knights Bloome was his tailor.

"He's too busy?"

"Sir, he wants to be certain that your order is completed in a timely fashion and with the delay caused by the fabric shipment for the order, he couldn't possibly have your suit done in that time."

"But I have an appointment for a final fitting today. Is he selling me a half-finished suit?" Elyan had been fitted for the new tunic, trousers and caplet for the occasion. Arthur wanted them at the Earle's ball. He needed this suit.

"Sir, I do apologize. Mr. Bloome is willing to accept the cost of the materials and has made several recommendations for tailors with whom you might have the garments completed."

"Very well who are these other tailors?"

The apprentice smiled and Elyan listened as the young man suggested four other tailors none of whom came close to Bloome. He was missing something.

"What are you playing at?"

"Beg your pardon, sir." The apprentice finally met his eyes and Elyan thought he caught the briefest hint of a smirk.

_"Beg my pardon."_ He rolled his eyes "You're playing at something. You and your master had plenty of time when I placed my order two weeks ago."

"Yes sir, but that _was two weeks ago_ sir."

He said the last part with such emphasis that the young knight knew exactly what Awstin meant.

"I see. Tell your master that I won't be needing anything from him and that if he chooses to turn away my business then he turns away the business of all the knights of Camelot."

Awstin's smirk vanished "Just a moment sir, l-I just let me speak with my master, sir."

"Right," Elyan crossed his arms and waited. Several long moments passed and Awstin reappeared.

"Makes my master no difference and besides," the assistant sneered, "I doubt someone like _you_ speaks for all of the knights anyway."

He felt his blood growing hot and his eyes narrowed. Elyan told himself not to ring the assistant's neck.

"Very well just remember I work with the king daily."

Awstin's smirk turned into an arrogant grin. "I'm sure that might have meant something before."

He wanted to smack the young man's smug face for the disrespect he was being shown. If he could he would have challenged the apprentice. Instead Elyan locked his eyes on the apprentice's, let his hand rest on the hilt of his sword and took a step toward the younger man. Awstin's grin vanished and the younger man inhaled sharply. It was Elyan's turn to smirk when the assistant took a step backwards, grey eyes wide and fearful.

"I suppose we'll just have to see how things come out then."

"I suppose we will, sir." Awstin's smirk returned as Elyan turned and strode away.

* * *

><p>"Do we truly need to cover every injury?" Gwaine's objection reached his ears and Elyan felt the briefest of smiles. Gwaine was not simply unhappy with this assignment he was angry; about it.<p>

"Yes."

"You give these old bastards too much of your time, Leon. Arthur should just be a tyrant like Caerleon."

"I thought you hated Caerleon." Leon's reply echoed clearly through the weapons room and afternoon shadows danced across the sandy colored walls.

"I do, but I doubt his knights had to answer to a bunch of paper pushers."

"Leon, Gwaine," Elyan greeted the other two men as he reached office door.

"Oh he looks pissed." Gwaine rocked backwards in his chair. "Suit not come out well?"

"It was a fast fitting," Leon commented, expression concerned.

"Not getting the suit from Bloome." Elyan stood looking at them and his hand brushed the hilt of his sword. "Bloome turned away my business."

"What?" Leon stared at him and Gwaine's eyes narrowed. "Bloome turned away your business? The Knights of Camelot have always used Bloome."

"I don't. Not anymore," Elyan said, "Apparently I'm not good enough for Bloome to wait on me.

"Well what the hell happened?" Gwaine demanded.

Elyan told the story in quick and simple terms.

"You were quite right, Elyan," Leon said and he felt relief flood through him. "Turn away one of us and you turn away all of us. Unfortunate though, Bloome's is one of the best. I'll put out the order at tomorrow's practice and I'll have to cancel those cloaks. " Leon sighed. "Did you get some lunch?"

Elyan nodded.

"Let's get to work then. Elyan, I need you to put aside your anger." Leon was silent for a moment as if weighing his next words. "There is more to this than meets the eye. The king is playing his cards close to his vest these days."

* * *

><p>"Gwaine, Elyan." Merlin gave them a broad small smile. "Arthur asked me to meet you, have seat here." The manservant motioned to wooden bench beside the council chamber's doors. "You'll have a brief wait. Lord Gildas is going a little long on the tax report, the noble's are whining about the Famine tax break."<p>

"Another one of Gwen's ideas," Elyan sighed.

The Famine Tax break would save the lives of hundreds of children and oldsters from farm families. The stores of Camelot were always open to its people in times of famine. However by the time the food stores were requisitioned and transported, hundreds would have died from starvation and famine related diseases. The Famine Tax break would allow for an immediate reduction in peasant taxes whenever harvests were under expected levels due to war, disease or natural disaster. The nobles were whining about the reduced tax as well the need for them to pay for educating peasant children out of their own purses, another of Gwen's ideas.

Gwen had come to see him one afternoon glowing with pleasure to tell him about the new plan. She'd explained to Arthur that it was no good announcing new laws that benefited the common folk if they had to hear the announcements, understand them at the time and remember them besides. If they or their children could read, Arthur could have the new laws announced and posted for everyone. It would allow him to speak directly to his people and they would know exactly what their king was doing for them. Arthur had loved the idea; so had Elyan.

He'd been so proud of her in that moment and he had told her _"your queen-ship will glitter like the crown jewels"_. She'd only grown happier with the compliment and it had been the beginning of their mending fences. Now they were left with this mess of class warfare thanks to her. _How could you be so stupid, Gwen?_

By the length of the shadows and brightness of the sun Elyan judged that that bit of a wait had been closer to an hour. What had passed in the council room while they sat in the hall cooling their heels neither man could guess, the heavy oak doors and stone walls let very little sound escape.

The council room doors opened and Merlin beckoned them inside, his long face quite pale. Elyan felt a cold sweat break out on his palms as they crossed into the great vaulting chamber. If he had his choice he'd face Morgana's army of undead rather than present this report.

"Before we come to Lord Troy and the Eastern noblemen's petition we have Sir Elyan and Sir Gwaine to give the knight's report this week."

Elyan, son of Thomas the blacksmith, tended to notice everything when he was nervous- the length of shadows, the sound of a pin dropping, throats being cleared, dust motes in a sunbeam and the briefest smirk on the king's face as he lowered his head and coughed, eyes dancing ever so briefly over the aforementioned Lord Troy.

So it was that he saw Lord Troy staring at them mouth hanging open before giving a pointed look at the Lord Payton. Something about the presence of the two knights upset both men. Elyan glanced at Gwaine wondering if the other man had noticed the two lords. His friend and fellow seemed to have fixed his gaze on the stained glass windows behind the king. Elyan told himself not to worry about the two noblemen; he had a report to give.

Gwaine cleared his throat and started just as they'd agreed. The other man began to relax as he spoke, one hand resting comfortably in his hip where his sword hilt would be if he wore it. Elyan tried to relax and listen to Gwaine, but his eyes kept drifting back to the king, Lord Troy and Lord Payton. He didn't look at them directly, but subtly from under lowered lids. He caught Arthur looking at Lord Troy with the occasional smirk, while Lord Payton's narrow eyed gaze would land on Lord Troy when the king was looking elsewhere. Lord Troy looked more and more tense with each moment and Elyan felt himself growing sorry for the man.

Gwaine finished his report and Elyan began, his own nerves forgotten as he wondered at the unspoken exchange. He didn't forget any of his talking points and when they'd done, there were a few questions asked. The councilors seemed particularly interested in weapons and armor and Elyan was happy to answer for them. Neither Lords Troy nor Payton asked any questions though and he wondered at that.

"Gwaine, Elyan," the king interrupted the question, "please have a seat there. The knights can continue answering questions after Lord Troy has presented the Eastern noblemen's petition." He motioned toward a bench not far from the table.

"Sire I do not-" Lord Troy seemed to jump in his seat and he shot a quick glance at Lord Payton.

"Lord Troy?" The king looked at him questioningly.

"I apologize sire. I am ready. This petition has been signed by the eastern Lords Mallory, Thomas, and Winston- " There were more, but Elyan found his attention wandering. He did not know any of these eastern nobles. "It has quite recently become evident that those of common blood lack the nobility and understanding to hold true to oaths that they may take. It is the proposal of the aforementioned Lords that the knights Sir Gwaine and Sir Elyan be removed and replaced with two youths of noble blood under the traditional policies of the late King Uther." Lord Troy finished and resumed his seat at no time looking at either of the two knights.

Gwaine opened his mouth as if to speak and Elyan rested a restraining hand on his friend's arm. He looked to the king and Sir Gwaine followed his eyes. Arthur seemed quite calm. He sat back in his chair not up, legs casually apart, fingers interlaced and hands resting loosely on his right thigh.

"So it is your proposal that I replace two of my knights, two heroes of Camelot –tested and proven in battle- with your untried youths?" Arthur leaned forward now.

"Sire, the youth are not untried. They are border bred, have seen raiding and bandits-"

The king sniffed, "Bandits." He spat the word with a level of disgust that only Arthur could manage.

"Sire, tradition-"

"Tradition!" Arthur smacked the table. "Tradition has seen many good men put out of the service of Camelot and treated unjustly. Are you a fool Lord Troy? Would you see Camelot lose seasoned fighters in times of war? Let me remind you of this simple fact _Lord Troy_ it is the prerogative of the king who serves as a knight and who does not,"Arthur fixed the nobleman with an expression that was a mixture of incredulousness and disgust, the kind that always provoked Merlin into saying something he shouldn't.

Lord Troy muttered something under his breath and Elyan thought he heard the man say "-more than you."

"What is it Lord Troy? Speak up."

The man muttered again.

"Come, come," Arthur rapped on the table with each word, "good sir, we are waiting. Please say what you mean and mean what you say."

It had never occurred to Elyan that the king might be irritating on purpose.

"I said they cannot be trusted," The nobleman's face was red with frustration and anger and his words escaped in a heated rush, "just as Lancelot and the blacksmith's daughter could not be trusted! They are common for a reason and everything that we have seen indicates that no matter what good a commoner may accomplish sooner or later they must give into weakness and vile behavior."

A hush fell over the council room, the only thing to be heard was Lord Troy's labored breathing. Elyan's eyes along with everyone else's went to the king. The man was surprisingly calm; he must have been expecting this.

"Ah," Arthur's voice was soft, "so while these good men may be guilty of nothing, you would have me replace them on the actions of others." Arthur appeared to think for a moment. "Perhaps I should decide all appointments based not on the actions of individuals, but based on the worst behaved members of their class?"

Lord Troy shook his head negatively.

"Of course not, sire."

The king went on as if the noblemen hadn't spoken.

"I wonder what noblemen I should select to serve council." Arthur looked away as if thinking. "Was it your nephew that had an affair with a peasant girl and when the girl became pregnant -which is no shame in and of itself- he denied her and feeling desperate the girl hung herself? Perhaps you should be replaced with a Lord from a cleaner family?"

Lord Troy stared at the king expression horrified.

"My sister, the witch Morgana, is of royal blood. She is guilty of practicing magic and enchantments perhaps. I am not fit to be king because of her."

"No! I mean yes of course you are fit sire- I-"

Arthur rose and leaned forward hands resting on the table and the anger stole over him, cool and steely. Elyan thought perhaps the room had grew colder. When he spoke his voice was low and serious and they all shrank back.

"Do not seek to manipulate me in this manner. Speaking of Lancelot or the blacksmith's daughter is treasonous and if you do it again I shall have you flogged and your tongue cut-out and you won't have to worry about the rank of Sir Elyan or Sir Gwaine because I shall take the lands and titles that you hold and give them to these two men. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sire."

All was silent as the king's eyes turned on Lord Payton for the briefest a moment. The man had the sense to incline his head, but Elyan could see quite clearly that Lord Payton was the true enemy here.

"Then we are done for the day."

Arthur strode from the council room and it burst into tense, irritated chatter; more than one man uttered the name of Uther.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Enid surveyed her little home satisfied that it was orderly and clean. In an hour perhaps less Dafyd would be home. Their little ones were at her sister's. She smiled at the thought of having a night alone with her husband. She thought suddenly briefly of Guinevere as she sometimes did. Was her friend well, safe? Perhaps tomorrow would be the day that Elyan or Gwaine would report the receipt of a letter.<em>**

**_"Enid?" She looked up and saw Anne at her window a common thing. What was uncommon was Anne's miserable, dirty, tear-streaked face._**

**_"Anne please come in. What has happened?"_**

**_"I've done something terrible!"_**

**_Half-an-hour later the two women sat in silence. In her mind Enid was making a little list._**

**_-Gwen_****_-Janet_****_-Mared_****_-Lizette_****_-Beth_****_-and now Anne_**

**_Six affairs in three weeks, something was terribly amiss in Camelot._**

* * *

><p><strong>AN **Thank you all for reading. I didn't expect to be this excited for the return of The Exile, but I wanted to post this yesterday at ten in the morning. :) I hope this chapter did not disappoint. I know Elyan is not the most popular character, I think he's been done a real disservice in Merlin and I hope most of you find my interpretation of Elyan at least sympathetic if not likeable. For those of you who love our girl as much as I do next week is all Gwen in Chapter 6: A New is also a new piece of artwork for The Exile, Chapter 5 posted over on my lj. As always comments and thoughts are more than welcome.


	7. The Exile Chapter: A New Life

_**This chapter has the distinction of being the longest thus far as well as the hardest to write. I like to think it came out well. Please comment, your comments are important to me and if I find myself feeling stuck at some points the comments remind me that people really are interested in this story. **_

_**The story thus far-**_

_**Banished for treason, lost and alone Guinevere has finally made her way out of Camelot. While she has escaped Camelot largely unscathed Guinevere has lost nearly all of her possessions. Including the wedding ring Arthur gave her, the knife her brother Elyan gave her, the Kente cloth her grandmother brought from her Asante homeland and perhaps most grievous loss the references she needs to find new employment. Worse still she has stumbled into a strange city with mysterious ways.**_

_**Characters:**_Guinevere, mentions of Morgana, OC: Father Flaejer, Ms. Alfonsa, Ylsa, Synove and Kerenza.

* * *

><p><strong>The Exile<strong>

**-Part II, Chapter 6-**

**A New Life**

Guinevere hugged herself against the cold. Around her rose buildings three and four stories high. Her ears caught snatches of languages some familiar and some foreign, some she spoke, but many she had not ever heard. In the air hung all the scents of man and something else, something else, salty and unfamiliar. The people that passed her -so many people so many styles of dress, so many shapes and shades of human being…Camelot had its share of immigrated people, but they were of Camelot. This felt like a city filled with all the cities of the world. Was this an imperial city? Rome had not had a hold on the Isle of Britian for over a hundred years, right?

Rain began to fall, slow, cold and fat; drops striking her first on the head, the shoulder, her cheek and then faster. The people around her looked toward the sky and some of them began to disappear into buildings and shops. Guinevere fought tears of frustration and tried to think. She had money, she could pay for a hostel, but she without supplies, a job, references…her money would go fast. She had to be smart. The rain came down faster, penetrating her tattered purple travel cape and raising gooseflesh on her skin. Guinevere searched the streets and amidst the shops and taverns she spied a cross.

Without a moment's hesitation Guinevere made for the church. She was no Christian, but she prayed, all black smiths did and so did their children. There had been a time been a time when black smiths prayed to the fire gods, then gods of the forge, like Vulcan. Even now one might hear the name of Vulcan uttered by a black smith in vain frustration though his worship was no more. Now she simply kept her mother's habit of praying to her ancestors.

The all-powerful-three-spirit god made no sense to her. If he wasn't an ancestor why did he care? If he was all powerful why didn't he fix things? Still Christians always welcomed visitors to their churches.

There was no service in the church when she entered and this worried her. She would have liked to have simply blended in with the parishioners. Still Gwen hoped that she could simply pretend to pray until it stopped raining and she grew warm. Guinevere sat down in one of the pews and closed her eyes hands folded in her lap.

Later or sooner she would have to pay for an inn though the longer she could delay that the better. Without her references how was she to pay for employment? Uncertain what to do her confused thoughts turned into true prayers to her mother and father for guidance and apologies for having not poured a libation for them in so long. Someone settled next to her on the pew. Gwen finished her prayer and cracked open one eye. She resisted frowning; the priest had sat beside her. This was it, he was going to call her out as a fraud.

"You must be very devout." He spoke in Latin. "Praying all this time I mean."

"Oh yes."

"We serve lunch in the hostel you should join us."

"Lunch?" Her stomach embarrassed her.

"Everyone is welcome." He gave her a small smile, pale eyes friendly. "We even have a women's bath."

"A bath?"

Guinevere imagined that she was probably quite offensive by this point. She had not had a proper bath in weeks. After exiting the woods she'd lived on the road side, sleeping in ditches and eating what she could find for-She didn't know how many days.

"I think there is still some hot water."

He rose and Gwen did the same not sure which she wanted more the bath or the lunch.

"Sister Abbey might even be able to scare up a clean smock."

Guinevere felt herself smiling, food, bath and clean clothes-

"For how much?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" Gwen could not keep the disbelief from her voice.

"The heavenly father asks us to clothe the widow and feed the orphan it is simply our work."

"But I am neither."

"Perhaps, but you are alone and you need help. Wyeledon can be a dangerous place for the friendless."

She weighed his words.

"Won't you join us for lunch?"

She nodded.

"I'm Father Flaejer by the way."

"I'm Guinevere, but you can call me Gwen."

"Very well," the priest extended his hand "pleased to meet you Ms. Jjju-"He frowned the g' came out soft and light, not a g' at all. He tried again "Jenafere?"

She started to correct him, but paused _Jenafere?_ It sounded soft and pleasant in her mind.

"Yes Jenafere." She smiled and clasped his hand. The priest palm was warm and dry, his handshake reassuring. She did not miss the formal way that he greeted her.

"Please to meet you too Mr. Flager. Um Mr. Flaejer you said that this was Wyeledon?"

"Yes."

Gwen sighed, a part of her wanted to laugh. She had chosen against Wyeledon, mistrusting Gwaine's recommendation. He was a good knight, but he never had specified what his sister did and for some reason Gwen had been suspicious of it. Now though she might just seek this Adras out after all, it seemed the only road left open to her.

Father Flaejer entrusted her to the care of the aforementioned Sister Abby. The nun was a middle-aged woman and Gwen could see strands of grey in her dark hairline. Abbey took her first to the women's bath. It was a simple stone room with a great tub and there was indeed hot water. Guinevere stripped and soaked, a heaviness settled into her limbs by the time the water grew cool she was dozing. Abbey had managed to find a clean smock and oil for her skin. Guinevere finished up her bath and dressed. Clean and relaxed she followed Sister Abbey to the kitchen and ate the food put in front of her without tasting it. Then someone was guiding her to another room. Where she laid down to sleep, too tired even to appreciate the narrow bed she laid in.

* * *

><p>Guinevere stared up at the stone ceiling above her trying to remember where she was. She remembered the rain and the church easily, but everything after…She'd had a bath and food? Her stomach rumbled and she sat up.<p>

"Ahh you're awake."

It took her a moment to recognize Sister Abbey. Guinevere surveyed the room. It was a plain and spare space with only several narrow beds and closet.

"Where am I?"

"Well you took Sister Maria's bed. But she didn't mind so much. Normally lodgers take pallets on the kitchen floor, but you fell asleep in your lunch and we still needed the kitchen."

"I'm sorry about sister Maria."

"She doesn't mind. You seemed so worn no one had the heart to move you."

"Oh."

"Get washed up, break your fast and then we'll see what we're going to do with you, hmm?"

Guinevere moved the straw broom over the flagstone floor with vigor while Sister Abbey scrubbed the kitchen fire place. Doing chores made her feel a bit better about the charity she was being given.

"Abbey, I do have some money and I'm certain I can find a job. Do you know of some household that takes lodgers?"

"Ms. Alfonsa, she is a friend of Father Flaejer, lets rooms to smart and hardworking young women new to the city."

Gwen smiled at the compliment.

"When we're done here let's go see him, he would know."

* * *

><p>The streets of Wyeledon twisted and wound. It was all Gwen could do to not stop and stare upwards like some country-cousin visiting Camelot for the first time. Camelot had the occasional three and four story building and the palace had two towers that stood five stories they never failed to amaze they never failed to amaze visitors from the outer villages. You could always identify them in a crowd they would halt mid-stride and stare upwards mouths agape. Every building in Wyeledon was at least three stories, many of them four; most of them white stucco with painted lumber usually dark brown, but sometimes blue, pink or green. Gwen studied them and thought of the frosted layer cakes served for Yuletide in the palace.<p>

"This is the place," ten year-old Tony halted, a smile on his nut brown face.

"Thank you Tony."

He stood on tip-toe and lifted the knocker. Moments later a young woman with curious green eyes and russet hair plaited into two long braids appeared at the little window in the door.

"Good afternoon Tony." The young woman flashed a quick smile.

"Ms. Kerenza. Father Flaejer has a new tenant for Ms. Alfonsa. Does she still have an empty bed?"

"I believe so." Kerenza glanced briefly at Gwen and her face disappeared from the little window. A moment later the door swung open. "Come in."

The pair walked into the cool shade of Ms. Alfonsa's house.

"I have to get back to work Tony; Ms. Alfonsa is in her study." Kerenza disappeared up a flight of narrow wooden stairs.

"I know the house." The boy said proudly puffing out his ten year-old chest as he started down the hall. Gwen followed her young guide out of the foyer.

The town home did not have wooden slat flooring, field stone or rushes. The floor was covered in pretty green and white tile with little yellow and blue flowers. Gwen wondered at the expense as she hurried after Tony. She followed him down a narrow hall to an arched wooden door.

Ms. Alfonsa a severe looking, older woman sat a wooden table reviewing a sheaf of papers. The matron had dark, grey threaded hair pulled into a knot on her head, a set of thick gleaming black brows over equally dark eyes, and her skin had that cool olive tone that seemed rather common here.

"Good afternoon Tony." The older woman smiled softly contradicting Gwen's initial thoughts of severity.

"Hi Ms. Alfonsa."

"How's my favorite young courier?"

"I am doing well Ms. Alfonsa." The boy smiled. "How are you?"

"I am well thank you Tony. What can I do for you today?"

"Father Flaejer sent me over. This is Ms. Gwen. He thinks she might take your empty bed."

Ms. Alfonsa glanced at her as she took the introductory letter the priest had written. Gwen's eyes swept little room while Ms. Alfonsa read the note. It was pleasant enough space with a large window and shelf covered in books and scrolls. The white plaster walls were clean and the tile floor was hidden with a blue and beige oriental rug.

"Thank you Tony." The older woman him a coin "Luisa has made some gooseberry jelly why don't you see her before leaving. Also Tony can you please remind the good Father that I shall expect him on Wednesday."

"Yes ma'am, thank you." The boy's eyes had lit up on the words gooseberry jelly and he hurried out of the room grinning.

"A very good boy that one," Ms. Alfonsa watched the child disappear out the door. "Jenafere is it?"

"Oh yes ma'am."

"Please sit down."

Guinevere sat on a little stool; the Oriental rug was plush beneath her feet.

"Father Flaejer thinks you would be a good addition to our household Jenafere."

"Your home looks pleasant enough."

"Thank you. Let me tell you a little bit about how we live here. I have a room shared by four young women a bed a piece. All have their own income and pay a rent of four coppers monthly. Besides a bed you have access to every room of the house save this one and my bedroom. Three meals daily are included with your board as well as firewood for the bedroom fire place. We have a housekeeper that serves as the cook and launders the bedding. You're expected to do your own housekeeping and laundry. If you decide to take the bed I'll need your first month due immediately. Now if that sounds acceptable let me show you the rest of the house."

Guinevere nodded, it seemed reasonable, she hoped it was. It certainly wouldn't make as much of a dent in her savings as she'd worried.

The first floor had a modern stone kitchen with a fire place, oven and indoor scullery. There was a dining room where breakfast, lunch and dinner were taken, and a room for bathing near the scullery that drained outside. There was also a pleasant little parlor and even a small library. The bedrooms and another parlor were on the second floor. They found Kerenza in the parlor reading and Ms. Alfonsa asked the young woman to gather her housemates and meet in the bedroom. The third floor served as something of a work and storage space Ms. Alfonsa had clothing furniture and tools going back several generations.

"Is it to your liking?"

Ms. Alfonsa seemed a no-nonsense type of woman and though she'd only met Kerenza briefly Gwen thought she might get along here. If not- well she could always go back to the church until she found another place.

"I think so."

"Good. Father Flaejer mentioned that you had lost most of your things in your travels."

Guinevere nodded.

"Come with me for a moment. I have a number of dresses from my youth that I shall never wear again and as I have no daughters they are just taking up space. They are old fashioned, but if you are clever with a needle you can update them."

Ms. Alfonsa let her select three dresses, a kirtle, chemise and cape. All of the items were plain and dated but well made of good fabric.

"I do have an appointment. Let's see our remaining housemates. "

The other women had gathered in the bedroom as Ms. Alfonsa had asked. Kerenza sat a chair under the window on the far wall reading. Two other women, one very pale the other very dark, sat chatting on one of beds.

Ms. Alfonsa cleared her throat and the three women looked up, all of their faces curious.

"You've met Kerenza. This is Ylsa," Ms. Alfonsa indicated the dark-skinned woman, "and Synove." The latter was the very pale woman, "this is our new housemate Jenafere."

"Hello, you can call me Jen. " Gwen gave them a small nod and allowed the corners of her mouth to turn upwards ever so slightly.

"Hi." The three young women spoke in unison.

"I've shown Jen the rest of the house. If one of you could help her get settled?"

"I'm on my way back to Mrs. Bright's." Ylsa got to her feet as she spoke, her dark velvety brown skin gleaming in the sunlight coily curls floating about her head. "She has been in labor for some time now."

"Of course," Ms. Alfonsa said.

"Nice to me you Ms. Jen," Ylsa shook her hand and Gwen met the tiny woman's big dark eyes briefly before she strode out of the room

"Kerenza, Synove surely the two of you can help Jen get settled."

"Oh yes Ms. Alfonsa," Synove smiled a warm little grin that lit her grey-green eyes and Guinevere thought that she had the most pleasant lilting voice.

"Thank you Synove." Ms. Alfonsa left her in the hands of the two strangers.

"Are those your things?" Kerenza asked.

"Yes. I don't have much; I've lost most of it."

"Oh," Kerenza's green eyes were thoughtful for a moment.

"This is the empty bed." Synove indicated the bed furtherest from the door. "Kerenza you'll have to empty her cabinet.

The room was rectangular in shape and four narrow beds lined one wall, beside each bed a tall narrow cabinet stood.

"Oh yes. Let me get my things."

"Come hang up your things while Kerenza clears your cabinet," Synove said and Gwen followed the friendly girl to the closet on the far wall beside the window.

"Is that all you have?"

"I'm afraid so." She thought briefly of her tattered travel cape, ruined clothing and lost dresses. Only her pretty blue tunic had been salvageable. "Ms. Alfonsa gave these to me."

"Oh," was all Synove said, but Gwen understood her reaction.

"They're rather dated for a young woman. I hope to get some needle and thread at the market and update them."

"That's a relief," Synove said and her eyes went round in horror. "I'm sorry-"

"No its okay presently they look as if they've come from the 700's."

"Indeed, I can take you to the market if you like."

"I would actually."

Guinevere finished hanging up her clothing and moved to stand before the fireplace. No fire burned now as it was nearly summer, but there was a pretty mural of angels painted on the plaster around it.

Kerenza finished clearing the cabinet and put her papers and scrolls into a basket that she placed on the room's highest shelf.

"It's all yours Ms. Jen."

"Are you going to come with us to the market Kerenza?" Synove asked.

"No, I've got to get back to my studies, but enjoy." The tall girl left as well.

Guinevere put her satchel in the cabinet beside her bed. She'd split her money into several purses. The little gold she had went to the bottom. She selected a purse with a mix of silver and copper coins and tucked it into her pocket. She pulled a lock from the satchel, looped it through the clasps and locked it fast. Gwen hated to imply mistrust, but with the exception of the clothing Ms. Alfonsa had given her everything she owned was in that bag.

Synove chattered as they walked the streets of Wyeledon. Though cute and talented Synove was one daughter too many in a minor noble family that couldn't even dower her for a convent. Like so many extraneous noble sons and daughters, she'd made her way to the prosperous city of Wyeledon trading on her refined upbringing to bring her a comfortable life. With a voice like an angel and a knack for instruments Synove found work teaching six days a week with three different families.

Guinevere would never share it with her new acquaintance, but Wyeledon intimidated her. The middle, lower town and palace taken together were considered a great city in Camelot. Wyeledon with its row upon row of four story townhomes and shops and people so varied dwarfed it.

"Just wait until you see the market Ms. Jen. I'll wager they don't have anything like it in your village?" Synove's expression turned thoughtful "You never did say where you are from?"

Gwen thought for a moment "Ealdor. It's quite boring little farming village nothing more."

Synove's expression turned thoughtful for a moment , but she said nothing.

The market did not disappoint. Stalls and booths stretched in all directions as far as the eye could see. Everything seemed to be sold in Wyeledon's market- plants, animals, food, entertainment, jewelry etc…much of it imported. The smell was a dizzying mix of perfumes, incense, food, unwashed man, animals and offal. All of it mingled with an unfamiliar salty smell.

"Thread and fabrics will be this way." Synove led her past yet more.

"Everything is really inexpensive here in comparison with the rest of Britain and you can bargain the merchants down." Synove grinned at this.

They eventually found the fabric market. There were tents and booths that hawking all manner of cloth, thread, yarn, wool to spin, buttons, hooks…they seemed stretch forever in every direction. Synove lead her to an area that was strictly for hanks of yarn, thread, buttons and various notions.

"We shall see Mrs. Thelma. She will give us a good deal."

The two women passed a number of stalls that had intriguing wares, Synove vetoing them all in favor of one woman's shop. Mrs. Thelma did indeed have the most beautiful and sturdy threads Guinevere saw that day. Synove did the bargaining and Gwen felt as if they'd stolen from the merchant when they were done.

"Synove I'd have paid three times that amount in Ealdor and thought myself clever, I am truly amazed."

"Well it's no special skill I have. I've seen Kerenza do better still. But they are more expensive because the merchants here will sell them twice if not thrice more between here and Ealdor. I was appalled when I came here and I am always being asked to send goods home."

"Mmmm."

"Also early summer is the height of the market season. Near the end of summer nearly everything will be gone and what remains will cost less still. Come winter the market won't be here and then in the spring when people are hungry for new goods and to replace tools and such, costs will be very high."

Gwen supposed that made sense.

They continued to peruse the fabric market. Guinevere purchased ribbon, embroidery thread, buttons and hooks and kept her eyes on the clothing she was seeing. She was starting to get ideas.

Her plan had been to do without a second kirtle. Having seen the cost of things Gwen purchased fabric for a new kirtle and decided to order stays as well. The latter however would be taken care of on another day.

With her purchases completed they headed back to Ms. Alfonsa's. Synove took a more direct route home leaving Gwen more confused than ever.

"What shall we do now?"

"I should probably start on the dresses." Right now what she wore was little more than a shapeless sack with a rope tied about her waist. She had dressed like this when she was younger, but having had nicer things, the sack dress pricked her vanity. The two women gathered the dresses and headed down to the first floor parlor.

Synove measured her with a piece of twine knotting in thumb length intervals. She thought of Morgana doing this for her so many years ago.

**_-Not so very long after her father's death Morgana had taken her shopping buying fabric, notions and all the while Morgana had probed Gwen for her opinion on every purchase. The items were to be a gift for a friend with very different tastes from her mistress. _**

**_The surprise had come one morning a couple weeks later. She had reported to work to find her mistress up and dressed standing beside a stack of several bolts of fabric in lavender, teal, a coppery shade, a pretty brocade and creamy white. With the fabric was the sewing basket full of threads and notions. _**

**_"Well Gwen what do you think about this? It is a gift for friend."_**

**_She had examined the fabric feeling slightly envious of this friend. The soft materials that would caress the skin, flattering colors that would make any girl feel pretty. _**

**_"They are beautiful I'm certain your friend will put them to good use."_**

**_"Yes you will Gwen."_**

**_"Excuse me My lady."_**

**_"I said you will make some beautiful dresses for yourself, perhaps turn a head or two." Morgana had began smiling, a true smile._**

**_"But my lady it is too much." The modest refusal had come rather naturally. She could not picture herself in pretty dresses, not in that moment. "I can't-"_**

**_"Yes you can Gwen," the taller woman had squeezed her arm gently then "after everything that has happened it is the least I can do and far less than your desert."_**

**_She'd seen the glimmer of tears in Morgana's eyes and understood why these were being given, an apology. The two women had embraced and Gwen's official duties were canceled until the new wardrobe completed. The gift turned out to be more than the materials. Excused from her regular duties Gwen need only walk away from the sewing if her grief got to be too much and Morgana would listen to her if she talked about her father._**

**_The fitted low-cut bodices had been Morgana's idea. They were the trend and if she were going to have new dresses than they may as well follow it. Gwen had had some misgivings, but Morgana had insisted. She couldn't catch a husband dressed as a dowdy matron. She'd debuted the new wardrobe with shyness, wary of the male attention she might draw. Something surprising had happened. The men surely looked more though they seemed to try and hide it and spoke less about "what she might be hiding under that dress". They were subdued somehow, better behaved and far more helpful. One thing she had never expected was to turn the head of the future king.- _**

"Jen?" Synove's expression was questioning.

"Sorry. I am gathering wool like a gaffer."

Synove merely shrugged.

"Raise your arms for me."

"Sorry." Guinevere did as the other woman asked.

When Synove was done they had five lengths of knotted twine, arms, neck, bust, waist, hips and waist to floor. With her measurements completed the two women got to work.

While they worked Synove chattered happily. The brunette told Guinevere about Wyeledon's Roman style senate, about the increasing number of Christians and the gaming houses of which Ms. Alfonsa heartily disproved.

Guinevere pinned the knotted twine that marked the width of her waist to the inside of the green linen dress Ms. Alfonsa had given her. Shortening the dress would be easy refitting it around her waist and hips would prove more of a challenge.

"How do you like living here?" She asked.

"It's rather nice we all get along well. The last young lady left a month ago after finally getting married at twenty-six." Synove marked out a new hem in chalk on the wrong side of a powder blue dress. "Ms. Alfonsa is a bit strange. She is the most educated woman I have ever met. She can read and write in three different languages, she owns this house, does her own books and insist only on tenants interested in something other than husbands."

"Husbands are the last thing on my mind." Gwen said knowing it was both a lie and the truth.

Synove studied her a moment the start of a sly smile on her face.

"Jen-"

Ylsa chose that moment to come in and throw herself down on the parlor sofa.

"That baby was huge," Ylsa's eyes widened as she spoke, "and poor Mrs. Bright is _s-o-o-o_ tiny." The midwife demonstrated the difference with her hands and snorted a most unladylike sound "I hope she doesn't have any more of those monsters. There is only so much I can do. Her innards are gonna fall right out of her plop, plop, plop. "The dark-skinned woman flicked her forefinger against her thumb with each plop and yawned, "New wardrobe?"

"Yep," Gwen replied.

"I'd offer to help you, but I am worn out and half-starved. I'm for food and sleep." Ylsa left and returned moments later with a plate piled high with fruit, cheese, brown bread and drumsticks.

"Luisa bless her, always knows to make me a full plate."

"She's going to eat it all." Synove said knowingly.

Gwen looked at the tiny woman doubtfully. Ylsa was no taller than herself and skinny besides, but her plate looked more appropriate for someone Arthur's size. The midwife woman ignored them and began eating the brown bread and cheese with obvious relish.

"Synove, do you know anyone named Adras?"

"Adras," Synove frowned "is someone you'll meet sooner or later and may it be later."

"What? Why?" Gwen asked wondering if this Adras were Gwaine's sister.

"Adras is strange."

With her new waist marked Guinevere began pulling out the old the lengthwise seams of the dress.

"Never a more unladylike being have I seen."

This provoked snort from Ylsa.

"Synove you're being a prude."

"I am not. Adras is downright disgraceful going about in trousers, sword fighting, going to gaming houses-"

"Prude." Ylsa interrupted.

"I know something about sword fighting and I wear trousers when I travel," Gwen volunteered wanting to defend the absent Adras for some reason.

Ylsa started grinning and Synove's mouth formed a little o'.

"But why?" The dark haired woman asked.

"It was fight or be killed."

Synove's curious expression transformed into one of horror while Ylsa's amusement began to look something like awe.

"Well." Was all Synove said and Ylsa grinned.

"When I am not so very tired I want to hear all about this."

Ylsa finished her food and left and the two women went back to their work.

* * *

><p>Over the next week Guinevere spent most of her time in the parlor or their sleeping room sewing. Sometimes she had help from Synove, Kerenza, Ylsa or even . The women chatted and Guinevere listened learning more about Wyeledon and the merchants that ran the city. Very slowly a wardrobe began to emerge.<p>

There were three simple dresses one in a pale seafoamy green, another in powder blue and a third in pink. She convinced Ms. Alfonsa to donate a few more of her unworn dresses. Guinevere used the extra material to make underskirts for her dresses giving them a more modern look. Stays were ordered with a trip to a Madame Santiago, a dressmaker. Guinevere also began making bodices and short sleeveless surcoats to go over her dresses. It was perhaps a bit fancy, but she had some ideas about where she might find employment and she'd need nice things. By the time her stays were ready; Guinevere had refitted the green dress and made the embroidered material she had purchased into a beautiful surcoat to wear with it. Her housemates were impressed and Ylsa insisted on an outing.

"Guinevere. Ms. Guinevere!"

Gwen stopped and looked in the direction from whence her name had been called. None of the merchants nor their customers seemed to be looking for anyone.

"Guinevere!" She spotted it then; a simple blue tent set a little ways back from the road. Curious Gwen walked to the tent and poked her head inside.

A woman she did not recognize past her prime, but still lovely sat at table with pendants, bracelets, brooches, hair clips and other accessories. The fragrance of deliciously sweet incense hung in the air and Guinevere took a deep breath.

"You called to me?"

"Did I?" The woman's wide pale grey eyes met hers and Gwen hesitated. "Come in."

"I thought you did."

"Perhaps my wares called you they do that sometimes." She cocked her head to one side and smiled russet brown hair gleaming in the late afternoon light. "Were you looking for something? A pendant perhaps or mayhap a hair clip? You have beautiful hair Miss."

"Oh thank you."

"This would be perfect."

Gwen felt her heart her constrict as the woman held out a lovely clip reminiscent of the half-sun clip that Arthur had given her, now lost.

"It called you don't you think?"

"No I don't."

"But it's very pretty; just have a look." The woman extended the barrette her grey eyes as mysterious as an overcast spring afternoon. Gwen stretched out her hand toward the barrette in spite of herself. Her fingertips brushed the metal and found it warm to the touch. The merchant woman's eyes unfocused and Guinevere felt the other woman's hands round her wrist in an iron grip.

"Your enemy's victory shall be her bane, the peasant- Queen's part remains. What the wise man cannot yet see is that Albion's destiny requires not two but three. Less all be over born by fear, history turns on the choice of Guinevere."

"What?" Guinevere wrenched her hands away from this witchy woman and the stranger fell back into her chair breathing hard. She had not thought of Lancelot or what might have been the greatest mistake of her life for the better part of two days.

"I am sorry." The merchant took a breath eyes hidden behind her hand.

"Sorry!" Anger flushed through her on those words. "I have no destiny with Albion! I've made my choice and Arthur has made his-"

"On that you are wrong Guinevere!" The merchant declared "You've made no-"

"Jen?" Ylsa poked her head into the tent "We looked up and you were gone? Synove was worried that you'd gotten lost."

Guinevere shot a glare at the fortune teller and Ylsa's eyes followed hers.

"Matilde," Ylsa nodded.

"Ylsa," Matilde dipped her head politely.

"Jen," Ylsa laid a gentle had on her shoulder and the confusion that had descended upon her since entering the tent seemed to lift, "did I interrupt something?"

"No there is nothing happening here just a fraud plying false-fortunes."

"Not false Miss. Undesired perhaps but never false, remember that. Please take this. It is yours, no charge."

Guinevere stared down at the clip. It was undeniably beautiful. Smooth metal lines flowed into one and other to make up the rays of a setting sun. The bronze itself gleamed dully in the light pouring through the roof of the tent-

-"No, thank you." She stalked out of the tent and a cold wind seemed to blow-up from nowhere. The dark clouds on the horizon blew across the sun and rain started to fall in hot fast drops. Without waiting for Ylsa or the others Guinevere turned and ran home.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**- **Latin** was the language to speak in the medieval period. It was considered the common tongue so Guinevere would have spoken it and maybe a couple other languages as well. From my research being able to speak multiple languages was not always a sign of education and wealth so as it was a sign as having been around many different people.

**Wyeledon** is a completely made up place.

**Women**- while the rights of women were limited during the medieval period how those limitations were enforced varied from place to place and family to family. There are records with female judges and women living alone like Gwen. Synove and Ms. Alfonsa are both noblewomen from extremely permissive families. Common women, lower class women and poor women are never restricted in the ways that noblewomen are, their families generally could not afford it.

Being a noblewoman did not mean you were allowed to lounge all day in leisure. There would have been some work that noblewomen did one of those things would have been sewing. Morgana might not have been expected to make her own clothing, but she would more than likely have had the necessary skill.

**Chapter 7- **Chapter 7 brings us back to Camelot. Elyan,Gwaine, Bedivere and Gareth are dispatched to deal with a bear that has been harrassing villagers near Waymeet. Elyan makes a discovery that will lead him to question his loyalties and confront the king himself.


	8. The Exile Chapter: The Air In Camelot

_**When Guinevere fled Camelot she encountered hatred and hostility, bears and bandits but also a new friend in Tilda of Bayberry. Now Elyan unknowingly retraces his sister's steps. **_

The Exile

Part II, Chapter VII

The Air in Camelot

Rain fell in cold fat drops on the morning they rode into Bayberry. Never-the-less someone had been watching for them. Only minutes after their arrival, a couple came out of one the houses on the edge of village. The man was tall and balding with a horseshoe of black and gray hair and a slight paunch. The woman was equally tall but lean with gleaming dark hair and a chiseled look about her that served as opposite to her husband's softish appearance. Sir Bedivere rode to the head of the group and dismounted. Elyan and the rest of the knights did the same.

"I'm headman Carle and this is my wife Tilda. Welcome good sirs."

"I am Sir Bedivere; this is Sir Gareth, Sir Gwaine and Sir Elyan."

Each shook hands with the Headman in turn and Elyan wondered if he only imagined Carle and Tilda's eyes lingering on him.

"Tell me Headman Carle," Bedivere spoke his deep voice rumbling, "Have there been anymore incidents?"

"Yes sir."

"Deaths or injuries?"

"Not people, but some chickens and eggs were taken as well as fish. And this bear is clever we've set traps as well as blocks, it's avoided all the traps and blocks to get at whatever it wants. And if you're out in the woods alone or in a small party it'll harass you. Creature showed up 'bout two weeks after the adulteress passed through here."

Elyan felt his jaw clench. For some reason he'd imagined he was getting away from politics.

"Here we are Sirs." Carle opened the door to his cottage. "Tilda see to their horses."

"Actually I'll take care of my own and Bedivere's." Gwaine volunteered.

"And I'll take care of the rest." He did not want to sit down at the headman's table before he had too, besides horses were always a man's job. The headman's wife lingered a moment in the doorway before following her husband and the other knights inside.

They stripped the horses of their tack, and began grooming them.

"The adulteress," Gwaine said.

"Yeah," Elyan pursed his lips. He was never going to get away from what Gwen had done.

* * *

><p>As the worked the morning clouds disappeared and the two knights chose to remain outside and enjoy the warmth of the sun.<p>

"Sir Elyan, Sir Gwaine," Bedivere joined them after about half-an-hour.

"The bear seems drawn to small groups of people. It frequents some areas more than others. We'll head out without the horses and see about this bear. The Headman's wife has packed us a lunch. If we're not able to deal with it today we'll overnight here go out again in the morning."

They spent the first afternoon in the woods. Clouds had scudded across the sun again bringing a late spring rain that soaked their hair and dulled their armor. For all that the bear had been reported as harassing anyone entering the woods in small groups the knights of Camelot found themselves bored and trying to pass the time with stories and jokes. The rain stopped by suppertime. As the day drew to a close the headman's wife, accompanied by her youngest son and daughter, brought the evening meal.

The food was simple and filling. Tilda sat knitting while the knights ate. The two children began playing, some game involving a ball. Elyan found his eyes drawn to the youngster as they ran back and forth laughing and shrieking. Eventually they started some game that involved jumping over one and other and Elyan couldn't help but think they were having a very good time.

They finished supper. Tilda and her children collected the wooden dishes and utensils and headed back to the village. Sir Bedivere estimated that they had a few hours of daylight left so they might as well give it a bit longer. Sadly the evening finished without the bear putting in an appearance.

The next three days passed much the same way. Some days they carried a packed lunch or supper. Tilda, always accompanied by her two youngest, brought them at least one meal. From time-to-time Elyan noticed Tilda watching him, her expression thoughtful. Other times he caught her looking at her boy, her expression a bit sad.

Elise pinned her younger brother to the ground.

"Do you give? Do you give?"

The boy tapped out and Elyan couldn't resist a smile. Gwen had always beaten him at games when they were little. By the time he was old enough to beat her she'd lost interest in children's games, it had seemed so unfair at the time.

"You have children?" Tilda's voice brought him out of his reverie.

"What makes you ask?"

"The way you watch them as if you're remembering something."

Elyan nodded. "No, but I do have a sister. Like Elise, she's just a bit older than me."

"They're very close. He has little boys that he plays with and she has her little girlfriends, but they always come back to one and other."

"Yeah."

"I'd like to thank you."

Elyan turned his full attention to Tilda now.

"All of you really for coming out here, for helping us, protecting Camelot, but especially you and Sir Gwaine ." she finished.

"Sir Gwaine and I?"

"Yes the commoner-knights."

Elyan studied her, wondering what had prompted the last.

"Moommmm!" The boy called her voice indignant.

"Excuse me," Tilda hurried off in the direction of her children.

* * *

><p>On the evening of their fourth day in Bayberry the people gathered in the village square drinking beer and mead round a bonfire. They sat in groups of three and four sometimes larger sometimes smaller old and young alike exchanging stories, jokes and gossip. Someone produced a drum and pipes and the people began to dance. Elyan and Gwaine were sitting playing with a pair of dice. It was during the midst of this gathering that Tilda approached them an earthen mug in hand.<p>

"You're Guinevere's brother aren't you?" Her expression was unreadable.

"What makes you say that?" He knew his tone was defensive, but these people here…

Tilda cocked her head to one side. "Everyone knows that Sir Elyan is the sister of Guinevere."

Elyan shot a glance at Gwaine and sighed before turning his attention back to Tilda.

"What of it?"

"I'm a friend," she smiled then and there was an edge of bitterness to it. "We have something in common you and me. My sister was also an adulteress. That's part of the reason why I helped your sister. You see I didn't help mine."

She raised her eyes and he saw such sadness in them that Elyan was struck dumb.

"My sister's name was-is Tacita. She was still fairly young when her husband divorced her and she came to me because we have very little family. I was angry with her of course and I felt the shame, the same shame you feel and I worried over the reputation of my daughters." Tilda took a sip from earthen mug. "My husband would not let me take her in. Still sometimes she slept out back and I gave her food; let her warm herself at our hearth. She would disappear for two or three days at a time and I would worry of course. I felt that I should do something more, but I was angry and how could she be so stupid? What was worth losing everything? What was worth shaming all of us? One autumn evening she disappeared as usual, but after three days Tacita didn't come back." She paused and shifted position.

"Three days turned into a week, a week turned into a month, one month turned into two, three...Snow fell, winter choked the world and still no sign of her. Spring came at last; in the thaw we found the body of a woman. At first we thought it was her, but it wasn't."

She paused then and Elyan hoped she wouldn't cry.

"She turned up in late spring, she was very pregnant and she looked-" Tilda pressed her hands to her lips and inhaled and exhaled. Elyan thought perhaps she was drawing up her strength.

"She looked- she had so many bruises old and new. I was no longer confused. I insisted that she live with us, my husband looked unhappy, but didn't argue. My change of heart came much too late though. 'Cita was so _changed._ She cried all the time, had nightmares and by god she was afraid everything. Eventually she confided to me that bandits had taken her sometime during the fall and kept her for the course of the winter. I also found out," she paused a strange and bitter smile on her face "I found out that when she would disappear for those two or three days at a time she was lying with some of the men from this very village, married ones. They gave her food and shelter in exchange for sex, the hypocrites! "

"Some men have no sense of honor about them," Gwaine muttered.

She sighed again and Elyan could see that she was trembling in every line of her body.

"You don't have to-"

"I want to." She made a fist and her voice cracked "I've never actually told the story. Everyone knows it, but..."

He nodded and took her hand.

"So she lived with us until the baby was born. Some women even unhappy ones cheer up with a new baby and I know she missed her son so. But her sadness only grew with the birth and she seemed so tired all the time." There was a plaintive bewilderment in her voice. "My husband grew frustrated with her, said she was a useless mouth. They were just little comments at first and I kept my peace because she was an adulteress and what husband wouldn't be angry at having his wife's adulteress sister living with them. But it hurt her more than I understood perhaps even more than she understood and he just got meaner. Finally one day -I wasn't there I don't know how it started- they had a horrible row, it turned violent and she left. She didn't take her boy, she didn't take anything. She was just gone. That was four years ago. I've not seen her since, I've not heard from her- I don't even know if she's alive."

She started crying then and proper or improper Elyan put an arm around her shoulders. For one moment she leaned against him.

"No. I'm not finished. There is more I have to say." She pulled away from him then and she looked him directly in the eye. "My sister was wrong, she was foolish and she shamed our family. I did what so many others do under the exact same circumstances. But knowing a little of what she suffered, knowing what she might yet be suffering…I think of her everyday and I worry about her every day. And I dream- oh the most difficult things- I dream. You see I may have been cold enough to let it all happen, but I'm not cold enough to live with it and somehow I don't think you are either."

"Tilda I don't-"

"Wife!" Carle's voice cut shrilly through their conversation.

Tilda sighed and drew in a breath. "My husband is missing me." She rose and stalked in his direction expression one of annoyance.

"Damn." Gwaine said it.

"I stayed in Camelot because of Gwen."

"Really?"

"When I was a kid the air in Camelot used to stink with the smell of burnt flesh. It lingers in the air for days. There was this one year when attending executions was mandatory. When I left it was my plan to never come back," Elyan looked into the distance for a moment. "When Gwen, Arthur, Morgana and Merlin came to the castle of Freyian, I started to think that maybe Camelot had changed. Uther was certainly not the type of king to risk anything for someone as unimportant as a blacksmith's son. Gwen spoke so highly of Arthur- There was hope in her voice… "Elyan sighed and shrugged. "When we rode back into the city the air didn't stink. I had missed my sister and not everything about Camelot was bad. There is nothing like a fresh loaf from the Goodes or light pouring into the valley at sunrise." He smiled a bit "I decided to remain in Camelot. Gwen had to struggle a lot after dad died maybe that's why she fell so hard being alone and all. I don't know. She had changed, in good ways. We spent time together skipping rocks, fishing, playing cards with Dafyd and Enid. We were actually kind of happy. But Uther- his shadows looms large. She started nursing him. How could she?"

"Uther was a not a king to inspire love or good feelings." Gwaine took a sip from his flask.

"I was so angry with her and then this scandal. I thought I was supposed to stick to my sworn oath, but…"

"Now you want to go and find her?"

"I'm not sure I can do anything-"

The sudden harsh clanging sound of a warning bell echoed through the village then and Gwaine and Elyan ran for the headsmen's lodge.

* * *

><p>The girl was scratched and dirty, brown hair lank and greasy about her head.<p>

"Tell the knights what you told me?" Headman Carle prodded the girl.

She looked at them in the firelight, dark eyes wide, face pale.

"Bandits they came out of the woods, we had no warning, no sign just one day from the direction of the sun, bandits."

"How long ago?"

The girl licked her lips, and held up four fingers.

"We're going of course." Elyan declared thinking of Tilda's story.

"Of course we are." Sir Bedivere said.

Elyan got to his feet.

"But not tonight," Sir Bedivere said "With no moon your horse could stumble and go lame, you could break your neck."

"First light then."

"First light."

Elyan opened his eyes to darkness, his bedding clammy with sweat. He tried to sit up, but his body –still caught in the grip of sleep- would not obey. He concentrated on wiggling the fingers of his right hand and that broke the spell of sleep. He couldn't face those dreams again, Gwen begging for his help, blood, and the condemnation in the eyes of his parents... Elyan got quietly out bed and began to dress he'd start for Waymet on his own; he could carry a torch and lead his horse.

* * *

><p>Gwaine was not surprised to wake in the morning and find Elyan gone. If he had feared for Adras as Elyan now feared for Gwen no doubt he'd do the same. Elyan had recalled his affection for his sister late, but he had recalled it. When Bedivere woke Gwaine pulled the one-armed knight aside and told him a little of what Tilda had shared with them last night as an explanation for Elyan's absence.<p>

"It's a terrible thing." The larger man said when Gwaine finished. "Still Elyan's not stupid he won't challenge the bandits without the rest of us, not unless he has to."

Trusting Elyan not to do anything foolish the knights had a quick breakfast and got on the road.

They found Elyan in the headsman's cottage of Waymet, sharpening his sword. He looked up with a fearsome smile as they entered.

"Good you're here. I've already scouted their position no sign of any captives. They're in a good location for defense, but they are just bandits and a motley lot at that."

"Very well Sir Elyan lead the way."

* * *

><p>This was the easiest part of his job, no politics here. In a battle you studied your opponent, people played their games but there was so much less to consider, so much less to anticipate. Your opponents could only hide so much and in a fight the hardest working, most skilled opponent always won. The bandits were easy meat and he never felt bad about slaying them. They robbed and killed honest hard working people, abused women and children and sold free people as slaves. The battle –if you could call that- was over in minutes.<p>

The more laborious task of making certain they were dead and disposing of their bodies could begin. Camelot claimed all the armor and weapons were collected and would be sold or given to the black smiths. Personal items such as jewelry, clothing, or tools would sit with the crown for a year if it could identified, it would be returned to the owners. If not it became the property of Camelot.

It was the stripping of the third body that set dread surging through Elyan. The man had been lying, green eyes staring and sightless, mouth parted in shock…A blade through the gut had felled him, but it was clear to Elyan that he was in a bad way before the battle. He was sallow skinned, eyes puffy with dark circles. Long red claw marks, swollen and oozing marked his shoulder. Had the man been attacked by the bear?

What had set the nearly painful surge of dread through Elyan though was the blade at the bandit's waist. EET, Elyan knew his mark anywhere. This was the first good knife that he'd made, the knife he'd given to Gwen. He wore its sister GJ on his waist right now. His eyes swept the bandit's corpse again and felt the beginnings of a sob in his throat. About the man's neck on a leather cord there was a ring. His sister was a sentimental woman. She would never willingly give up the wedding ring Arthur had given her. Seeing it on a thong around the dead man's neck could only mean one thing.

Bile surged into the back of his throat and he bit it back. Gwen could not be- She'd made it as far south as Waymet. She passed Bayberry. She could have crossed paths with these bandits anywhere. She could have been taken like Tilda's sister or robbed and slain. His throat and chest grew tight.

"Gwen." He whispered her name and the trees of the forest seemed to dance and spin.

"Elyan?" He snatched the thong from round the bandit's neck and quickly stowed it in his belt pouch.

"Yes." He replied without looking up. With shaking fingers he got the belt knife off the bandit.

"When you have finished with that come give us a hand with these corpses?"

"Of course," his voiced sounded strange and husky to his own ears and he tried to breath. Guinevere was dead at the hand of bandits. In his mind's eye he saw this man –now dead at his feet- laying rough hands on his sister. His sister, so like his mother- Elyan pressed the back of his hand to his mouth and choked back a sob. He got to his feet and surveyed the corpses of the bandits. He counted them, twenty. Had they- He'd met women that had been made to slave to bandits or invading armies. They were not- They were blighted beyond all vitality, all beauty, wrecked women, truly ruined. Was Gwen now so destroyed, living somewhere like Tilda's sister, growing an unwanted bastard in her womb?

"Sir Elyan you look unwell." He hadn't heard Sir Bedivere approach.

"I am injured." He clutched at his side. "It is not so bad, but I should probably have it checked."

The senior knight nodded. "Yes of course. Can you mount and ride?"

"I believe so."

"Good go back to the village and get yourself taken care of. We will see to this."

"Yes." Elyan turned and headed toward the horses moving slowly so as not to give away his lie. Gwaine ran up alongside him.

"You sure you are well?"

"I-I'm fine." He said it somehow.

"No you're not." Gwaine accused his voice low. "Is it just an injury?"

The two men kept walking the taller keeping up with the shorter easily.

Elyan passed a quivering hand before his eyes. "I will tell you, but you must promise not to share this with the others."

"I promise, but why?"

He had promised too quickly. "Swear it on your oath as a knight."

"Elyan?"

"I will tell them, but not yet."

"Very well Elyan I swear on my oath as a knight that I will not reveal to anyone what you are about to tell me before you do."

The younger knight produced the ring.

Gwaine swallowed before speaking. "It's the ring Arthur gave to Gwen."

"I found it on that corpse back there along with the knife I gave her."

The two men started up the slope to where they had picketed the horses.

"You think she is dead?"

"I pray she is not…" Elyan lapsed into silence.

"So what are you going to do?"

"I need to try and find her, maybe…"

"I'll come with you."

"Not yet my friend," Elyan almost smiled. "I'm just going back to the village now talk to Tilda. Can you stay here and search for any signs of captives or-" His eyes strayed to the pile of bodies.

"I understand." Gwaine surprised him with a quick rough hug before hurrying back to the others.

* * *

><p>He found Tilda in her home preparing her evening meal. Her dark hair in one long braid, youngest children running about. She took one look at him and blanched.<p>

"Elise, Tommy go outside."

"But-" the boy protested and Tilda fixed both children with such a stern look that they hurried outside without another a word. "Sir Elyan sit down please."

He did.

"What has happened?"

Elyan sucked at his bottom lip a moment, his heart wanted only to mourn his sister, but he was not willing to give into that, not yet.

"I found Gwen's things," he swallowed "personal things, things she would never give up, never sell on the corpse of a bandit."

Tilda's gasped and Elyan saw the glimmer of tears in her eyes as she started to massage her forehead.

"Elyan I am so sorry- I had hoped-" She pressed a trembling hand to her lips.

Elyan swept his eyes over her thin trembling form.

"I should not have come to you with this, I am sorry."

She took a breath long and deep then, her spine straightened.

"No I want to help." She looked at him, "tell me what you need."

He studied her for a moment.

"I have not given up my sister for dead."

The older woman took a deep breath. "You are going to look for her?"

"Yes."

"How can I help?"

"When you saw my sister did she have those items?"

"I do not recall seeing a ring, but I saw her with that knife."

"Damn!" He slapped the table with an open fist. He had cherished the hope that Gwen's meeting with Tilda would have come after the bandit.

"Do not think the worst, anything could have happened." She sat on the stool beside him and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "Are you going to look for her?"

"I cannot do anything else."

There was a flash of something in her expression and she nodded.

"She told me she was making for Ealdor. I suggested she shelter in the old waystations since the villages had become so hostile." The older woman got to her feet. "You'll be needing some supplies."

"You shouldn't-"

"I want to." Her stern tone brooked no argument.

"As you wish."

"I'm doing it for your sister as much as my own."

Half-an hour later in addition to his own supplies Elyan had several days worth of dried grain and fish, and some dried fruit, a chunk of lye soap, a sewing kit, and a few oil soaked rags for the making of torches."

"Thank you Tilda thank you for everything."

"You're welcome and god bless. I shall pray for you and Gwen."

Elyan mounted his horse and continued south. Each time he looked back Tilda was there and he knew she was sorry for both of them.

* * *

><p>Elyan stared at the river Cadmus. Signs of recent flooding were everywhere. He had found a man that claimed to have spoken to Gwen. Bryn, a tall fellow, light brown hair threaded with grey and pale blue eyes. He reminded Elyan of their Uncle John. Gwen would have accepted this man's advice. Bryn told him that Gwen had passed that way perhaps a month ago. She seemed well, sad, but well. He couldn't say whether or not she had a ring, he was certain she'd had a knife. Bryn went on to explain that he'd advised Guinevere to ford the river at shallow point about three day's walk east. He couldn't say with any certainty what she had chosen, but he'd seen her start east before he himself had turned around. Elyan thanked the older man and started on the road immediately.<p>

If she'd gone east at the river then there her trail would grow cold. Still a month ago there would have been few hours of daylight. Heaving a heavy cart across the forest floor would have been slow work. He could probably cover her three day's foot travel in a day and half, two at the most. Elyan made up his mind that he would look for any trail to follow. He reached the river the next day and then headed east into the woods. Elyan kept his eyes open for any sign of her passing but he was not hopeful. Any physical trace of her journey would have been obliterated over the course of a month. Again he considered heading straight for Ealdor. If she were there then his search would be over, but if she'd been lost somewhere between Waymet and Ealdor then he needed to follow that path and where it led.

The woods were in full bloom when Elyan, Tom's son, knight of Camelot entered them. Entering the forest in the morning with the sun at full height was like crossing into a twilight world. The forest canopy blocked most the daylight and absorbed much of sun's warmth. The ground was cool and largely bare as new trees and growth got very little sun. Travel by horse was easy. The forest floor was as clear as any road and Elyan made good time. From time-to-time he thought of his fellow knights, worried that he was being irresponsible again. It couldn't be helped. He had to do this. His thoughts were filled with Gwen and their mother. Was it as so many said? Did their mother's spirit watch over them? Was she disappointed in Elyan, in Gwen? Time drilled on as he rode and the deeper into the woods he traveled the more the outer world fell away as the closeness of the inner world grew.

He thought on it, thought of Tacita and came to understand one thing. No matter what everyone else thought or expected, Gwen had failed their family and he in turn had failed her…

Night descended and Elyan made his camp, near the river. The day had been long and draining. In spite of his worries he slept easily. Slept and dreamt about Gwen and how she might be suffering, dreamed again of failing his parents and woke to the disappointing dimness of false dawn. He could not sleep again, but could not get on the road. He waited quietly, calmly wishing for some activity to fill his mind and time. Instead his thoughts wound the well worn paths of where Gwen might be. For the first time since finding the ring Elyan let himself cry for his sister.

He ate a cold breakfast when there was light enough and was in the saddle as soon he could see.

In the middle of his second day of travel -as if cued- Elyan spied fluttering on the breeze, trapped amongst the growth along river something bright orange and green and yellow. He brought his horse to a stop and dismounted quickly. It took but a tug to pluck his grandmother Ngimbe's kente cloth from amidst the prickly shrubbery growing at the riverside. Something else Gwen would never give up willingly. Had she perhaps drowned trying to cross the river? Had her cart been smashed her things scattered everywhere to simply be found by the bandits?

Elyan stared at the Cadmus. According to Bryn it had been flooded when Gwen had tried to cross. Here the signs of that were far less. In fact there was no sign of Gwen or her passage save the family's Kente Cloth. While he was glad to have found it, in truth it told him nothing about where Gwen might be. Elyan wrapped the ring and the knife in the Kente cloth and remounted.

He let his horse take him across the river. Elyan searched for any sign of her anything of hers left behind. It was much too late for the telltale signs of trail, a narrow footprint or broken blade of grass. He found no other clues such as the kente cloth and if there were any to find. Where in all the world could he begin to look for her? He should have just gone straight to Ealdor if she had made it there safe then his search was over. If not- He surveyed the woods…would he ever know what had become of her?

It was another three days before he crossed the border into Ealdor. He knew Merlin's mother by name if not by sight and found her easily enough. Unhappily she reported that Guinevere had never come there. He had come late to Ealdor late in the day. The people there were generous enough to share their evening meal with him and give space on the floor of the headman's cottage. He slept poor and troubled that night waking several times from nightmares. He was on the road with the dawn heading north.

He had failed. No one would fault himself, nor Tilda for her choices. If Gwen had met her fate at the hands of some bandit, if even now she slaved in some strange land there were many who would say it was her just dessert. But she was his sister and he could not stop loving her. Like Tilda, Elyan could not now convince himself to consign her to the fates and pretend that she never existed. However it was not only _his_ lack of action that had led him to this place. There was one other that would share this burden with him.

* * *

><p>A ring thunked onto the king's desk.<p>

Merlin watched the change come over Arthur, saw the king leave them all behind for world inhabited by only himself and one other.

"It was found-," Elyan's words broke the silence.

"-Found-" Arthur repeated the last word.

"On the body of a bandit."

"The body-"

The last time Merlin had seen Elyan he had been as a man divided. A man torn by family loyalty and the oath of loyalty he'd sworn as a knight, haunted, burdened by grief, guilt, anger and shame. He carried none of that today, today he was righteous.

"This was also found," Elyan held up a knife still in it's sheath and Merlin tensed.

"My sister would not give up these things, she would not sell them; she loves too well..." The knight's voice was heavy and husky.

The two men stared at each other. The meaning of Elyan's words sunk in, the accusation in his eyes evident. Finally the king was forced to look away.

"You must accept my resignation sire."

"Elyan-"

"-Your father killed my father,"

-Arthur winced and everyone knew what must come next-

"-and now you've killed my sister."

A shudder passed through the king and he looked as if Elyan had struck him. What happened then no one expected. Arthur turned his head and threw up.

* * *

><p><em>"Again?" The guard said.<em>

_The stocks were clapped round Joseph's head. He and Afon had come to blows about Anne. At least Afon was standing in the stocks beside him._

_"Yup, brawling over a woman," another guard replied."What is this, the twelfth man now put in the stocks for this?"_

_When the first one had been brought down people had found it fun to come and throw food at the people in the stocks. But when the stories started come out and there was someone there week after week, sometimes the husbands, sometimes the wives. The people had begun to feel nervous. Husbands did not trust their wives, wives did not trust themselves and the people now hurried past the stocks, gaze averted, praying and crossing themselves. It was beginning to feel as if some plague had settled over Camelot._

_"Ya' know that Gwen was arrested a time or two for witchery and there was her father and that friends of theirs all condemned on charges of sorcery. Maybe she was a witch; put a curse on the city when she left."_

_"You're an she was a witch why let herself get banished?"_

_"Maybe but something ain't right."_

_Sarah Goode was the baker's daughter. At thirteen years of age she'd found her true love. But he was fifteen and disinclined to take note of a thirteen year old girl, much less fall in love with her. Still they were force to spend time together and at the close of a year when Sarah Goode was fourteen her true love was returned._

_ While fourteen was considered an acceptable age for marriage Sarah's parents would have none. Everyone knew stories of girls wedded and bedded too soon and therefore killed by it. Rolfe the young man who loved her so understood this and waited patiently while she aged into healthy adulthood. Fifteen and sixteen, two years passed and Sarah's parents told them to wait one more. _

_ The lovers satisfied themselves with stolen kisses and survived the horrors that often seemed to descend on Camelot. _

_ Questing beast, gargoyles, dragons, sorcerers returned from the dead, armies of undead, witch-Queen Morgana. They survived it all keeping each other and their families safe. _

_Everyday Sarah walked past the adulteress's house and everyday she thought the same thought. How could she? _

_ When it had come to be known that Prince Arthur loved a handmaid, the former maid of his sister Morgana, the peasants of Camelot were confused and worried. They knew Gwen and many of them liked or loved her but they knew noblemen too. They'd promise a lower class girl anything, take what they wanted and go. Or if his feelings were true the best the girl might hope for was to be his mistress. When it came to be known that Arthur and Guinevere had, like she and Rolfe loved each for years, Sarah felt tied them. And when she wished for happiness she wished it for the four of them. The king had loved Guinevere for only little longer then she had loved her Rolfe. _

_ When the story of the adultery spread Sarah had taken it personally. She worried that somehow all the comparisons she had drawn between Arthur and Guinevere and herself and Rolfe now doomed her love too._

_ Sarah's finger traced the interior of the bracelet. The metal was surprisingly warm against her fingertip as if it pulsed with its own life. It gleamed in a way she'd never seen before. She knew she should take it to the magistrate. Clearly it was the property of some lady and if it was seen on the wrist of peasant maid she'd be arrested. Yet Sarah did not do that. Instead she thought about how lovely the band of silver would be on her wrist; in her mind's eye she could see it as she wore her wedding dress._

* * *

><p><strong>AN- **I've said it before I was rather iffy about Elyan after 4x9. But he is Gwen's brother and I couldn't write this story without writing about him. I've actually built the character a complete back story, so while he is still irresponsible and somewhat unreliable I also see him as trying to do better than he has done in the past. Camelot under Uther was a horrible place to live in many ways. Someone besides Morgana should hate it.

**Gwaine- **While Gwaine is a flirt he is also described as being a champion of women. In the old legends he spoke for Guinevere when she actually did have an affair. It seemed to me that he would definitely view the men of Tilda's village in a negative light.

16


	9. The Exile Chapter: The Stranger

_**Sorry for the delay on this latest chapter. I usually write much more action focused stories and this chapter has very little action so I struggled with it a bit and then life conspired to delay me further. As always thank you all so much for reading. Please remember to comment I do read through comments and take your feedback into consideration when I am if you haven't read it I posted a a stand alone short in which Arthur longs for Guinevere that fits somewhere in between these first few chapters but really could apply anywhere after Gwen's banishment.  
><strong>_

_**.net/s/8079061/1/The_Things_He_Dreams_an_interlude_for_The_Exile**_

_**And now onto the story:  
><strong>_

_**As difficulties mount for King Arthur in Camelot Chapter 6, A New Life saw Guinevere settling into her new home and making friends. However she also heard the words of prophecy from a chance meeting with a fortune teller called Matilde. Angered at the suggestion that she still had some part to play in Camelot's future Guinevere fled to her home.**_

* * *

><p><strong>The Exile<strong>

**Part II, Chapter VIII**

**The Stranger**

Guinevere fought the wind all the way back to Ms. Alfonsa's. Twice the wind tore the heavy wooden door out of her grip before she finally pried it open. With the door open, Gwen threw herself inside before it could slam shut a third time. For one moment she rested soaked and shivering against wooden solidness of the door. The foyer was a dusk world without lamp or sunlight. She surveyed the shadowy room for a moment. The dull distant echo of rain could be heard thudding onto the roof and there was a close closed feel to the townhouse.

The young woman slipped off her shoes and gathered her skirts up around her knees. The nice thing about living with only women was that you could run about in your chemise or carry your skirts above your knees with no one to criticize, complain or leer. The _"female fortress"_ Ms. Alfonsa laughingly called it. The hallway loomed dark before her and Gwen ran for the kitchen trying to drip as little water as possible onto the floor.

_She was no one's Queen just a fool._

Gwen entered the scullery through the kitchen, hung her surcoat and then dress on a line strung for that purpose. When the rain stopped she would hang both items outside. Her chemise and stays were mostly dry so she left those on. With her wet clothing hung, Gwen squeezed her dark curls into the scullery washtub and watched the water flow down the drain into a cutlet to be carried outside. She tugged at the laces on her stays. The young woman wore only a simple front lacing stay with just three ties that came loose with a tug. Stays loosened, Gwen felt instantly relaxed. She looked at her wet things with a sigh; it had been stupid to run away like that.

_"The choice of Guinevere," _Matilde's words echoed in her thoughts.

She wrenched the scullery door opened, strode into the kitchen and stopped to stand before the far counter thinking.

Guinevere drummed her fingers on the dark wooden counter, here and there were scratches and nicks. She wondered briefly how old these counters were.

"Choice," she muttered the word and froze as long shadow stretched across the room. She was not alone. Her eyes flicked to a shiny copper pot and Gwen saw the reflection of a strange red-haired man there. She snatched up the copper pot and whirled in almost one motion.

Cookware held before her like a sword, Gwen demanded answers. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"

The stranger lifted his hands and took a step backwards. Like her, he was dripping water.

"I'm a friend of Ms. Alfonsa's. She should be meeting me here soon. It was raining and the door was unlocked. I let myself in." The young man's eyes dropped briefly to her chest and loosened stays.

"Likely story." Gwen brought her free arm across her chest to cover her semi-nude state and studied the red-head. He was tall and slim and young looking. Damp red hair was pushed back from a rather pretty face. Delicately curved brows arched over wide brown eyes, a regal nose, full rosy lips and chin that drew to a surprisingly narrow point for a man.

"I truly am a friend of Ms. Alfonsa's and no threat to you. I am unarmed."

The young man dropped his hands and pushed his green duster back to reveal narrow hips and a fancy white tunic embroidered with green and blue flowers.

"Who are you?" Gwen asked not at all reassured.

"I apologize miss," the young man bowed as elegantly as she had ever seen. "My name is Adras."

"Adras?" Gwen lowered her weapon just a bit. _Gwaine's sister?_ This man was _awfully_ slim and pretty and Synove said Adras dressed like a man.

The young man-woman- person in front of her smiled.

"I knocked, no one answered and I didn't want to wait out in the rain. I figured I should probably hang up my coat in the scullery."

Guinevere looked at the puddle forming on the tiled floor at Adras' feet.

"Very well go on then." She motioned toward the scullery with the pot. Adras kept his hands up and sidled into the scullery. Synove had said she'd meet Adras sooner or later. Was this Adras' also Gwaine's sister? Whoever he was he didn't seem dangerous but… Guinevere remembered the way he looked her up and down switched the pot for a knife.

"Is that surcoat yours, it's really pretty?"

"Thank you and its mine."

Adras' eyes went to the knife as he, she- stepped out of the scullery.

"You really don't need that." He pointed at the knife Gwen held.

Her only response was to frown and hold the weapon higher.

"First of all Guinevere or I suppose its Jenafere now-I _am_ Ms. Alfonsa's guest. Second my brother Gwaine asked me to look out for you, third-"

In what seemed to be no more than the blink of any eye Adras had closed the distance between them and gotten the knife out of her hand. Guinevere stared, _he-she_, was so fast.

"And fourth Adras of Wyeledon at your service, I am much too chivalrous to hurt lady." The redhead bowed and extended the knife back to her hilt-first. Guinevere took it with a limp hand and set it on the counter, it certainly was no use to her.

"I see."

Adras straightened a smile on her face.

"You're not going to grab anymore weapons are you?"

"No." Guinevere replied. "Make yourself comfortable. I'll be upstairs."

Not sure what else to do Guinevere went upstairs. Alone she combed and braided her damp curls and pulled on a fresh kirtle. Dressed in dry clothing Gwen surveyed the room she shared with her housemates. She put away a hair brush that Synove had left out and smoothed Ylsa's bedding. She knew she should probably go downstairs and talk to Adras, make sure she was comfortable and perhaps asks her about a job. But she would have to talk about her history.

Instead Gwen went to her cabinet and pulled out her satchel. Today was rent day. Ms. Alfonsa had left early that morning and Gwen had yet to pay for her fourth week at the townhouse. She surveyed the little purses of money. They were dwindling. Guinevere pulled out a purse of coppers and dumped four on the bed. She put the purse and the remaining coppers back into the satchel and wedged her hand down to the bottom looking for and finding the reassuring thickness of her few pieces of gold. They were of course still there. Feeling some measure of safety at finding them Gwen put the satchel away. She had no real reason to believe they would be gone but she still liked to check on them from time to time. Gwen put the rent money in her pocket and went in search of something to occupy her mind.

* * *

><p>Sadly Luisa was much too good at her job. Everything in the house was clean and orderly. Gwen found herself dusting things that didn't need dusting before deciding that the dining table needed an extra layer of polish.<p>

"I-" Gwen jumped at the sound of the unexpected voice and heard Adras's warm chuckle.

"I don't think I've ever seen a table given such thorough treatment. That's going to have quite a glow to it by the time you're done. Oh and you might just offend Luisa."

Guinevere set the rag down and faced Adras.

"Why don't you join me?" She held up a plate of bread, cheese, nuts and black and red olives.

She did rather liked olives and Gwen suspected Adras must have brought them over because there hadn't been any before. Besides it would be one rudeness on top of another to refuse at this point.

Adras pushed the parlor door open and Guinevere entered. The other woman had laid out a game of solitaire and Gwen had a seat opposite Adras'. The redhead set the lunch tray on the table between them and returned to her seat. Feeling a bit hungry Gwen popped an olive in her mouth.

"Well, look at that. I was winning." Adras gathered the cards and began shuffling.

"What did your brother tell you about me?"

"So you _are_ Guinevere then?"

"I prefer Jenafere but yes." Guinevere picked at her cotton skirt eyeing the intricate pattern of the rug. "What did Gwaine tell you about me?"

"Not much_," that you were a wonderful, kind and caring woman, there was some trouble afoot and to please look out for you."_ I assumed the two of you were lovers, you're certainly pretty enough."

"No!" Guinevere declared. Did everyone seem to think she was some kind of harlot? "Why would you think that? What'd he put in that letter?"

"Nothing, I just know my brother and I know how he is with an attractive woman, that's all. He didn't actually say anything about an affair."

Guinevere took a deep breath, "oh sorry."

"You've nothing to apologize for."

The lamplight flickered and Guinevere watched the progress of an ant across the leaves of the plant in the parlor corner while shadows danced along the gleaming wood paneling.

"Jenafere-"

"-Jen please."

"Very well Jen, My brother and I are quite close. I wouldn't have my son right now if it weren't for him. So if he asks me for a favor then I want to fulfill it." Adras' eyes were very sincere. "If you need anything please don't hesitate to ask."

"Thank you."

The two women lapsed into silence, Gwen listening to the steady staccato beat of rain on the rooftop.

"How long have you been in the city?"

"About three weeks." She said absently.

"I've been here for," Adras paused, "goodness, seven years now. It's quite amazing. The merchants fancy it another Rome; they've finally finished their coliseum. Lysistrata is playing there some nights and other days there are tournaments and bearing baiting."

Guinevere grimaced.

"Bear baiting does require a strong stomach. But Wyeledon is one of the most amazing cities in all of Britannia."

"Hmmm, I've yet to see much of it."

"Your housemates haven't shown you the city at all? I know Kerenza is _always _busy," Adras rolled her eyes, "but surely Ylsa or Synove…" Adras' voice had lost its slightly masculine tone.

"No." Gwen sat back in her chair, "they've been perfectly pleasant. It's just I lost most of my things and have had to spend my time making clothes. Then I'll be looking for a job. The other girls have offered to loan me their things but-"

"It's not the same." The lamplight flickered across Adras' pale face and gleamed against her red curls. A smile lit her face. "You made the green surcoat hanging in the scullery?"

Gwen nodded.

"You're truly talented."

"Thank you."

"You said you needed a job right?"

"Yes." She ate another of the olives.

"Have you considered working as a seamstress?"

There was a hopeful look on Adras' face.

"I have actually."

"Perhaps you would do some work for me?"

Gwen considered that for a moment while Adras broke the small loaf of brown bread in half with slim elegant fingers.

"What do you need?"

"Pants. Madame Santiago does excellent work, but nothing like your surcoat. Perhaps you could take my measurements now."

Guinevere thought it over for a moment and headed upstairs for some twine. She had been looking for something to do and she did need income.

She measured Adras in thumblengths, stretching the twine alongside her thumb marking the woman's size with simple knots. First she measured Adras' waist and hips and then knelt on the rug to measure her inseam.

"Do you like these trousers that you're wearing now?" Guinevere tugged at the hem of Adras' pants they look rather a lot like a skirt actually.

"I like the color and fabric not the way that they fit."

"So you'd want something closer cut?"

"Exactly."

"A straight leg then," Guinevere gathered the fabric to demonstrate.

"You'd make something like that?" Adras' dark eyes were quite confused. "Don't you find it improper? Everyone else seems to."

Guinevere considered it for a moment "You're not paying me to have an opinion; you're paying me to make something that you'll like and will look good on you."

"Ah so if I wasn't paying then what would you think?"

Guinevere rose to her feet.

"Well a dress is considered appropriate" she paused a moment "but I have lived a rather inappropriate life myself. So who am I to tell others what is and is not appropriate especially when it's for something of as little consequence as clothing."

Adras looked at her rather seriously. "Jenafere I cannot imagine you as anything other than appropriate."

Gwen stood "I'm not certain if that is a compliment or an insult."

Adras laughed then "Compliment. I'll send a cart for you on Thursday and we'll have a few fabric merchants meet us there."

"Thursday is fine but" Guinevere replied."I think we'd do better to shop at the market."

"At the market?"

"Yes. They charge you to come your house I'm sure and you don't get a complete selection. We really would do better to go to the market unless of course you'd rather not?"

Adras looked to be thinking it over for a moment and then shrugged "Very well, let us go to the market on Thursday morning."

"Hi Jen, Ms. Adras."

"Synove."

Guinevere looked over her shoulder and saw Synove standing in the doorway a frown on her plump pretty face, blue dress damp from the rain. She didn't see Adras smirk at the other woman.

"Hi! We didn't hear you come in. Sorry I ran off like that."

The other woman shrugged.

"Are Ylsa and Kerenza with you?

"Kerenza is upstairs," Synove folded her hands primly, eyes on Adras "Ylsa never rejoined us."

"Should we be worried?" Adras asked.

"Not yet. It's still raining a bit so she probably decided to wait a little longer."

"Very well," Guinevere started from the room "I've got to go and put these measures away."

* * *

><p>Ylsa stood in the doorway of their sleeping chamber hands in her pockets, rain soaked dark hair shrunk into a short woolen cap. Jenafere sat under the window head bent rather studiously over yet another dress. After Jen had run off she and Matilde had sat talking for a bit and she did not like what Matilde had told her. Ylsa studied the mural round the fire place for a moment. The angels' dark brown eyes stared back at her. She took a deep breath.<p>

"Are you well Jen?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Jen answered without looking up.

"A visit with Matilde can be very distressing."

"False fortune telling is not worth the time it takes to say it."

Ylsa took in her friend's intense concentration, her studied attention to the work in her hands.

"Maltide's fortunes are often helpful."

"It's a shame the rain ruined our outing. I would have loved to have seen the ocean."

Ylsa sighed and looked at the hair clip; _it's going to catch up with you sooner or later._ The mid-wife walked to her cabinet and put the clip with her own hair ornaments.

"You will love the ocean. The next time the weather is nice we absolutely must go. Um Jen?"

"Yes?" She finally looked up from her work.

"I know you're busy but do you think you might help me braid up my hair?"

She smiled then "Sure."

"I haven't missed dinner have I?" Ylsa asked that as Jen set aside the dress, she hated missing meals.

"No." Ylsa heard the suppressed laughter in Jenafere's voice and shrugged.

It didn't take at all long for the two women to get Ylsa's wet hair into a pile of simple braids. Just as they were finishing, Luisa called them for dinner.

The household was neither large nor wealthy. Luisa set the table before dinner and ate with them. Adras and Ms. Alfonsa had been closeted in the older woman's study since she returned with Father Flaejer in tow. Now both guest joined them for dinner, Ms. Alfonsa at the head of the table Father Flaejer on her right, Adras on her left. Firelight from beeswax candles cast a gentle glow over the dining room.

"So Ms. Jeni how are you settling in?" Father Flaejer asked.

"Very well actually, my housemates and I get along quite well and Ms. Alfonsa has been especially helpful."

"Thank you Jen." Ms Alfonsa said "We're actually rather glad you sent her to us father." The older woman patted the priest's arm affectionately. "Jen is bright and friendly-"

"-And pays her rent on time," Kerenza looked pointedly at Ms. Alfonsa when she said this.

"She does." Ms. Alfonsa said unapologetically and the dinner conversation moved along.

Ylsa told some funny stories about some of her deliveries. Kerenza talked about her master's most recent attempts to turn lead into gold and Synove provided the gossip. When the conversation went silent toward the end of the meal Father Flaejer turned to her again.

"Have you found work yet?"

"Adras has given me a job. It's not permanent work but it's a beginning."

"Doing what?"

"She's going to make me some pants."

"Of course," Father Flaejer chuckled and sipped his wine.

"Jen," Kerenza said, "I know you were worried about your references and all. I told a bit about your situation. He offered to talk Mr. Theobauld about a position. He thinks Mr. Theobauld would take you without references."

"What's the job?"

Kerenza made a face, "Maid."

Unexpected revulsion pulsed through her with the word maid and Gwen could tell by the way everyone looked at her it must have shown on her face.

"Uhhhh-"

"-forget I suggested it Jen," Kerenza said.

"Listen ladies have any of you had meazlies or small pox?" Father Flaejer asked

Guinevere, Ylsa and Adras volunteered that they had had both as children. While Synove claimed only smallpox and Kerenza stated that she had had neither.

"Then you all had better stay out of the port district. There are a few cases of meazli there and one household has been quarantined already."

"How horrible," Synove remarked.

"Well Physician Leonard will be paying a visit there to explain the proper treatment for disease to the parents there. If it is treated properly many lives can be saved."

"That's kind of Leonard but then he is a special kind of man." Ylsa remarked and all eyes shifted in her direction. "Most physicians think themselves too good for the common folk."

Guinevere caught a small knowing smile on Adras' face and the older woman winked at her.

"Ylsa that's not true they have to follow the word of their employers it's not their fault if their Lords don't let them attend the people." Synove declared and Ylsa rolled her eyes.

Guinevere thought briefly of Gaius. Uther and then Arthur had never kept the elder physician from treating the common folk and giving lectures just like the one Father Flaejer had described. But Synove was right; they were at the beck and call of their employers and not all men were brave enough to insist on helping the commoners.

"You can't fault people for holding onto their positions," Kerenza remarked and Ylsa snorted. Luisa began clearing the table and Ms. Alfonsa requested Synove play for them.

Synove went to collect her lute and everyone retired to the parlor. The dinner conversation continued for a bit while Synove tuned her lute. When she began the first chords of a familiar and lively tune, Father Flaejer asked Ms. Alfonsa for a dance and she consented. Ylsa and Kerenza decided to partner up and that left Gwen with Adras.

It was not at all strange for women to dance partner dances together. But Adras was not like a woman. She dressed like a man, carried herself like a man, talked like a man and even took the lead in the dance like a man. When Adras dipped her, Gwen felt very confused indeed. Synove played two more songs and pleaded weariness. Kerenza got a box from the cabinet in the far corner and a deck of cards. Seven was too many for most games.

"Cards and parchisi," Kerenza smiled.

"You and that dog-gone parchisi," Synove took the card deck from Kerenza. "Bid whist Gwen?"

"Parchisi is my favorite game actually." She smiled at Kerenza "I'll take the blue pieces."

"So we know what game Gwen is playing." Kerenza said as she sat the box on one of the two tables.

"I'll be yellow." Adras said "Ylsa you'll be green of course."

"Of course," Ylsa said "and Kerenza takes red."

Ylsa and Adras say side-by-side while Father Flaejer, Synove and Ms. Alfonsa started their card game.

"We have a full game for once." Kerenza smiled and started setting up the board. They had perhaps an hour of gaming before Ms. Luisa ushered in a brown haired girl no more than twelve years of age with wide desperate eyes that focused almost instantly on Ylsa.

Breathless the girl spoke, "My mother-"

"-Is in labor," Ylsa finished with a sigh and the girl nodded as Ylsa got to her feet. "Shit! She's in early labor isn't she?"

The girl nodded and the two of them ran from the room.

They played a few more hands of Bragg but when the hour candle burned down to nine Adras and Father Flaejer both rose.

"It's that time then?" Ms. Alfonsa looked at Father Flaejer, her dark eyes and narrow and serious, beringed hands folded primly in her lap.

"Yes." Adras' voice was quite low.

"Come I'll show you both out."

"Good night ladies." The priest gave them a small smile. "I hope we can enjoy another equally pleasant evening in the near future."

Gwen watched Father Flaejer take Ms Alfonsa's arm and felt the tug of a small smile at the possibility of a romance between the two. A moment later Adras caught her eye and she saw that the redhead was smiling at the sight as well.

"It was a pleasure meeting you Jenafere." Adras said.

"Likewise."

"Kerenza it was lovely to see you again. The next time I visit, you must tell me about your work with ."

Kerenza nodded. "I'd be happy to."

"Goodnight Synove." Adras nodded in direction.

"Goodnight Ms. Adras."

Adras took herself from the room and Guinevere turned back to her housemates.

Synove blew out a breath.

"I'm worried about Ada's mother." Synove declared as Kerenza began shuffling the cards.

"When was she due?" Gwen sat down at the table.

"She is delivering more than a month early," Synove said.

Gwen grimaced.

"I wouldn't worry," Kerenza said.

Guinevere stared at Kerenza. They may not have known Ada's mother but a month or more early surely meant ill. The babe surely could not survive and there was always risk in delivery when a pregnancy progressed normally an early delivery held still more risk for the mother.

"Kerenza, I don't understand you at all." Guinevere looked askance at her housemate.

The russet haired girl began dealing the cards and she spoke without looking up.

"Ylsa has never lost a mother or child in labor."

* * *

><p>Guinevere forced her eyes open and lay still. She could see the bandit's cold green eyes clear as day. She'd fought him in her dream as she had in life but the bear never came. Instead he'd torn open her blouse, arm pressed against her throat so that she could barely breath. She'd forced herself awake then. The pale grey light of false dawn poured through the window casting a wan glow across their bedroom. Synove murmured in her sleep and Kerenza soft snoring whistled through the room. Ylsa's bed was still empty.<p>

Gwen turned her head at the sound of the door opening. In the pre-dawn dimness she identified Ylsa' s tiny frame in the doorway just as the other woman began moving across the room.

She heard the door open and saw the midwife standing there. Ylsa put her bag on top of her cabinet, pulled off her dress and draped it on one of the room's two chairs. A moment later she threw herself on the bed still in her chemise and stays.

"The mom and baby are they well?" Gwen whispered.

"Yeah."

Ylsa faced her and Gwen could see the subtle reflection of light off Ylsa's white teeth, the other woman was smiling.

"They were in a bad way but praise god I was able to help them. I'll have to see them at least once a day for a while. The little one will need lots of attention but I think they will both be well."

"Kerenza said you never lost a patient."

"She's exaggerating. Did I wake you?"

"No."

"Couldn't sleep?"

Gwen shuddered, "nightmare."

"Oh, what about?"

"A bandit was… accosting me."

"Ooohhhh."

Ylsa was silent for a while.

"Sometimes I hate men."

Gwen surprised herself by saying "Me too."

"And I hate people who wake me up from sleep in the middle of the night," Kerenza's complaint seemed to come from nowhere.

"Sorry." Both women said in unison.

"I'm too wound up to sleep." Ylsa said in a loud whisper.

"I don't want to go back to sleep." Gwen replied.

"Scoot over."

Gwen did and the tiny woman got out of her bed and lay down beside her. It had grown cool in the night and they snuggled together whispering to one and other while the pink and orange light of the rising sun filled the room dispelling shadows and bringing with it a relaxing warmth. The sunlight filled the room playing over the soft white crochet bed spread, highlighting Guinevere's black curls and Ylsa's dark shoulder length braids. A gentle breeze stirred the thin curtain hanging over the window. Ylsa relaxed and in the light of the morning sun, Guinevere's nightmare faded. Side-by-side, soft cheeks pressed together, with the dawning of the new day the two women drifted into sleep.

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN- celibacy was not required of catholic priest for a number of years and there were popes, cardinal and bishops that had wives or lover and sometime even fathered illegitimate children._**

**_Next two chapters are in final edits. I think I'm going to double up on Guinevere's chapters to help move the story along, either way I'll see you all soon. :)_**


	10. The Exile Chapter: In the Mourning

The Exile, Chapter VIIII, In the Mourning

_**The story thus far**_

_**Gwen is settling into her new life and home in Wyeledon while difficulties befall those she left behind in Camelot. Elyan, believing Gwen, dead carried the engagement ring Arthur had given to her and never reclaimed back to court, laying the blame for her death at Arthur's feet. Meanwhile the enchanted bracelet landed on the wrist of young woman named Sarah Goode and fear gripped the populace of Camelot as domestic stability was replaced with growing chaos. **_

* * *

><p>The Exile<p>

-Part II, Chapter VIIII

In the Mourning

"You can't resign Elyan." Merlin said.

He shrugged off Merlin's hand on his arm uncertain how the two of them came to be in the hall outside the king's chamber. Moments ago he had been glowering down at Arthur and then Merlin was rushing him from the room.

"Why not?"

Arguments and thoughts flitted across the other man's face with humming bird speed before he sighed and his shoulders slumped.

"Do you truly believe that she is dead?"

"I don't know," Elyan admitted "but I know she wouldn't give up those things and they _were _on the body of a bandit."

He saw the faint glimmer of tears in Merlin's eyes and felt some perverse sense of satisfaction at that.

"She can't be. It's not right!" He denied.

"No it's not," the knight whispered.

"Elyan I'm-" There was a loud crash from the king's chamber. Merlin started in that direction and stopped.

"Arthur will want to find her."

"Why? To what end?" He challenged.

Merlin's mouth worked and there was another crash and a clatter like armor hitting the floor.

The knight felt a twisted smile spread over his face.

"Go ahead," He nodded in the direction of Arthur's chambers. "We both know what you're going to do."

A look of hurt flashed across Merlin's face and Elyan felt a subtle softening of the malice that had been riding him since he'd found GJ on that bandit's waist. Merlin truly was Gwen's friend.

"I'll not be swayed in this."

"El-"

There was another crash and Elyan took a step backwards.

"Go." He waved Merlin away with a dismissing hand and started toward his own room. He had packing to do. He could not let rumor carry this information to his aunt and uncle.

* * *

><p>Elyan hurried to his chambers to pack. He wanted out of here before the king recovered himself enough to command him to stay. His quarters were sparsely furnished all of his belonging's had their own place and Elyan gathered them quickly. It took very little time to gather most of his things and he wondered as he packed if he always knew he would not remain in Camelot for long.<p>

"Leaving without saying farewell? What happened to the more responsible and considerate Elyan?"

He looked up from his packing. Gwaine leaned casually against the door jamb while Percival stood imposing as ever arms cross over his massive chest. He sighed.

Elyan and Gwaine clasped arms and he and Percival exchanged a true hug. He hadn't seen the giant in weeks. Percival, Gwaine –and before Lancelot and Gwen's indiscretion- the king and Lancelot had all been counted as true friends, no more than that, more like a second family.

"I don't have a lot of time my aunt and uncle mustn't hear about this sordid business through rumor."

"Quite right," Gwaine said and Percival merely nodded.

"Leon's not with you?"

"He's on patrol." Gwaine supplied that information and made himself comfortable on the bed while Percival took the chair. Elyan continued packing.

"So you resigned?" Percival asked that question.

"No," he snorted "the king was in no state to acknowledge it, doesn't matter though I can't linger here." Elyan threw a few more supplies into his bag.

"And Gwen?" Gwaine looked at him pointedly.

His grip on the scarlet cape in his hands tightened.

"No sign, no trace." He balled the cape up and stuffed it into his bag. "I'll be carry the news to my aunt and uncle and look for her in Wyeledon."

"I'll arrange for a letter to my sister."

Elyan surveyed his quarters and then his bags. Just three of them and he was done.

"So this is it my friends."

"Send news as soon as you have it." Gwaine looked as if he would say more but didn't.

"Of course."

"Don't assume the worst Elyan it's as likely that she was robbed and sent on her way as she killed. Don't assume." Percival offered that advice and Elyan knew he should listen.

Percival was the epitome of the man who gained wisdom by listening much and speaking little.

"Thanks Percy." The three men exchanged a quick round of farewell hugs and were off.

Unfortunately for Elyan though he was ready even eager to be back on the road his horse Sheba was not. He'd purchased Sheba from the crown out of his knight's salary. Horses were always on loan to knights but purchasing your own gave a certain amount of freedom. Sheba was a good, lovely mare, strong and tough, a beautiful animal but he'd ridden her hard the past few weeks and now that she had gotten a chance to rest it showed. He could requisition a mount he was still a knight after all but he would have to return a requisitioned mount and he had no intention of returning.

He'd have to let Sheba rest in the stables for a few days at least. Elyan headed to the scriber's in town. He'd arrange a letter to his aunt and uncle telling them not to believe any rumors they heard over the next few days and that he would see them soon. The scriber knew of a messenger heading that way that very afternoon.

In the meanwhile he would stay with Padrig's parents. Like him they had left the capitol after Padrig had been burnt at the stake and like him they had returned with Uther's death. They would welcome him as if he were their own.

* * *

><p>"Leave me!" Arthur's shout carried into the hall and Merlin's ears. Moments later several very disgruntled looking noblemen hurried out of the chamber. Merlin concentrated blurring his presence with magic and dashing past the noblemen and guards to enter. He froze at the tableau in front of him for just a moment before turning and pulling the great oak doors shut.<p>

Afternoon sunlight bright and gleaming poured merrily over Arthur, highlighting the moment in fine detail. All of Arthur's paperwork littered the floor like an untidy nest, a dull black streak of wasted ink washed over them. Candles that had sat unburning on the king's writing table were now on the floor, some still rolling, along with their candelabra. After sweeping the content of the desk to the floor the king must have hurled the sturdy table with great force for it lay on its face halfway across the room. The chair, now on its side had suffered equal abuse. Arthur stood in the center of it, sunlight glinting off his hair. He seemed completely unaware of the chaos around him, his whole attention trained on the ring resting in his palm.

-_Gwen's ring._

"Arthur," Merlin drew in a deep breath for a moment it was easier to do the duty he'd assigned himself then think about the possibility of his friend's death. He took a step forward.

Arthur took two steps toward him blue eyes bright with anger.

"I did not want-" He paused mid-sentence and began pacing wildly direction changing each time he spoke.

"It wasn't supposed to-"

Arthur trembled and paced to the window.

"Why did she-" Arthur's breath came out in a gasp "She can't be-" he leant against the window then and slid to the floor eyes once again on the ring.

Merlin found himself frozen. He'd helped Arthur through so much but he'd never seen him like this before. The sound started with a groan and grew to a tortured wail so painful that Merlin wanted to block his ears and forget that this was happening. Arthur's grief was not meant for him to witness. But it struck such a fear in him for his friend, for Camelot that Merlin could not possibly turn away. He took a deep breath somehow he would help him.

"Arthur." Merlin crouched in front of him thinking back briefly to how alone he'd felt when his own father had died, when Freya died. He laid a light hand on the other man's wrist, "You're not alone."

He looked at him finally, expression so bleak Merlin had to resist flinching away.

"She can't be-"

Again Merlin was taken aback. He'd never seen Arthur cry. He did the only thing that made sense in the moment. Merlin put an arm around his friend.

* * *

><p>Merlin leant exhausted against the stone wall outside Arthur's chamber. Thanks to Gaius the king now slept the sleep of the drugged. He had been tempted to ask Gaius for a share of the potion for himself but if Gwen she- she couldn't be dead! Merlin fought the desire to break down himself and stumbled along the hall and out into the courtyard.<p>

Gwen had been his friend long before Arthur ever cast his gaze in her direction. He'd begged Arthur not to banish her. Only three short months ago that she'd charged Lamia with the cry _"Leave him alone!"_ She could have run from that danger, no one would have thought less of her; it would have been the sensible thing for her to do. Gwen was no knight, no trained warrior…But when it came to it she'd run straight toward the danger for him. She could not be dead. She was too brave; too good…Merlin cloaked his passage through the night dark streets of the middle and lower towns with magic evading sentries and passerby with ease, his footsteps ghosting over the hard packed gravel streets.

Outside the city walls, hidden by the dark of night he used still more magic to speed his feet across the ground into the deep woods. He ran miles in breathless minutes, magic blurring trees and grassy ground until he came to a wide clearing gasping for breath, stitch pinching his side. Bent double, breathing deep, hands resting on his knees, Merlin caught his breath. He would not give into the grief that had overwhelmed Arthur, not yet. When his breath no longer came in gasps Merlin raised his head and called Kilgarrah.

* * *

><p>Kilgarrah swooped in to land coming down gracefully while Aithusa stumbled and skidded to a halt.<p>

"Is he all right?"

The baby dragon looked up dazedly. Kilgarrah chirped something that sounded like it might be encouragement and the baby let out a bleating wark before getting to his tiny feet and waddling to Kilgarrah's side.

Kilgarrah gave the baby dragon an indulgent smile and nuzzled his brow ridge. Aithusa seemed to be growing well and Merlin felt his spirits buoy for just a moment.

"Helllo Merlin." The dragon said settling his great wings.

The baby chirped a greeting and Merlin chirped back. Aithusa was good deal larger than when Merlin had called him from the egg.

"Kilgarrah I need your help."

"Straight to the point eh? Tell me Merlin what has happened?"

Aithusa tucked his white wings along his body and waddled off behind Kilgarrah sniffing at the ground.

"I need your help to find a friend. Gwen was supposed to write from Ealdor, but she has not reached there and some of her things were found on the corpse of a bandit."

"So the future Queen is dead."

Merlin flinched back from the words and a streak of white shot from behind Kilgarrah and crashed into one of the trees ringing the clearing. Merlin winced and Aithusa picked himself up with an angry squall in the direction of the forest.

"Aithusa, do not go into the woods." Kilgarrah's voice rang with frustration and the baby dragon glared over his shoulder but obeyed walking the perimeter of the clearing instead.

"He's taken to hunting he's not very good as yet." The dragon explained tone softening on the last few words.

Kilgarrah returned his attention to Merlin expression one of distinct boredom.

"Gwen may yet live," Merlin protested "I need your help."

"My help?" The dragon spoke as if he had no idea to what Merlin referred. Kilgarrah was going to be difficult.

"Yes I need your help finding Gwen."

"And what is it you propose I do?"

Just then Aithusa shot across the clearing, running full tilt at Kilgarrah who seemed to take no notice of the baby's antics. At the last minute the baby dove into a tumble and rolled clear under the great dragon to emerge on the other side with a satisfied high pitched roar.

Kilgarrah took a breath "What do you want me to do Merlin? Ignore him."

"You've offered advice before and you can cover far more ground than I, visit more places than I can."

"Why should I do either of those things Merlin? I'm a parent now and I have to spend my time looking after Aithusa. Merlin are you aware of the fact that you woke us up in the middle of the night? Do you know that it is going to be impossible for to get him to go back to sleep. I can't go traipsing all over Britian looking for one woman no matter who loves her." Aithusa chose that moment to begin gnawing on Kilgarrah's foreleg. "He's teething," the great dragon explained.

Merlin felt the beginnings of a smile the monster that had terrorized Camelot for days didn't seem nearly so fearsome now. Then he remembered Arthur weeping over Gwen's ring

"Kilgarrah Arthur can't function like this he feels responsible." Quickly Merlin told the dragon about Arthur's change in behavior since Elyan brought back Gwen's ring. "He's never broken down like that before."

"Good."

Merlin stared at the dragon. "Good?"

"Yes good. Why he would send away someone he claims to love I'll never understand, must be some bizarre human law. Answer me this Merlin how tall is she?"

"What?"

"Your friend's height, how tall was your friend?"

"Perhaps 5'0."

"Any special fight training or skills?"

"No."

"Natural weapons like claws, fangs or magic?"

"No." Merlin answered glumly.

"Have there ceased to be bandits in the woods of Camelot? Does your nation still have enemies like Morgana?"

"No and yes."

"The success of you humans has always been borne by your ability to meet challenges in a group. Casting one out is nothing more than a commuted death sentence."

"No!" Merlin denied the implications of the dragon's statement, "Arthur didn't want her executed that's why he had her exiled."

At that moment Aithusa pounced on Kilgarrah's head his little white beak clamping onto the dragon's ridge. Kilgarrah's eyes went wide and Merlin swallowed waiting to see what the great dragon would do next. The elder dragon reached up and lifted the offending youngster from his head. He held the baby so that the two of them were eye to eye.

"Sit down and do not move again until I tell you to." The dragon's voice was low and careful Merlin did not think he would disobey if he were Aithusa. He set the youngster on his feet and when Aithusa settled Kilgarrah placed one of his claws on the baby's tail.

"Now where was I?" Kilgarrah looked away a moment a thoughtful expression on his "Ah yes! Do noblewomen go into exile alone and undefended Merlin?"

"No," he answered honestly "they have servants, guards, horses…"

"Hmmm," the dragon made his Merlin you're a dumbass face. "Did you even manage to sneak a protective charm into your friend's belongings Merlin?"

"I did but I don't know what happened it must have failed somehow. I didn't have much time to prepare it."

Kilgarrah took a breath "Merlin I am sorry about your friend but this is not something I can help you with. You're to protect his life not fix his every problem. Not shield him from the emotional sufferings that will make him a better man."

"Very well," Merlin sighed and the dull sadness at the death of a friend throbbed in him. "Do you- do you know if she lives?"

"Yes."

"Can you tell me that at least? I won't tell him."

The dragon seemed to consider for a moment.

"I'm sorry Merlin, but I think you must suffer through this too." There was resignation in Kilgarrah's tone.

For a moment Merlin considered bending the dragon to his will. He could do it. He'd done it before.

"I can command you,"he said at last.

"You could," the dragon said, "but then you will have lost two friends." Kilgarrah stared at him unblinking until Merlin looked away.

"Heed my advice for once Merlin. Let him suffer through this. If she lives and he finds her he will love her all the more for having suffered this and if she is dead he will value those who remain and any new loves that much more."

For a long moment Merlin was silent. Elyan was surely going to look for Gwen perhaps he could help Elyan instead.

"Very well, answer me this then. If she lived and were in some immediate danger, needed my help would you tell me?"

"Yes."

So she was safe or dead, Merlin felt some sense of relief. Of course the dragon's idea of safe might mean something different than what he would consider safe.

"It is late Merlin. Late me take you back to Camelot or as close to Camelot as I can?"

Merlin nodded numbly.

Kilgarrah chirped to Aithusa who bounded to the older dragon's side. The older dragon crouched so Merlin could mount. It took him a moment to settle himself behind the dragon's neck ridges. Aithusa was already beating his tiny wings and hovering near Kilgarrah's head. The great dragon flapped his wings for several beats, stirring the air around them and then with force of his powerful limbs shot into the air catching current beneath his mighty wings. Merlin muttered a spell to ward of the chill of the heavens and felt his spirits begin to rise.

Aithusa flew alongside them making loops round Kilgarrah that brought a bubble of laughter to Merlin's lips. The older dragon chirped at Aithusa.

"He wants to play, which I normally indulge, but I explained to him that when you're flying with a friend that does not have wings loops and pirouettes are not a good idea."

"Oh." Merlin couldn't help, but grin. Aithusa shot back to them, and hovered at eye height, flying backwards no less. There was more chirping and the baby looked at Merlin a moment before tumbling backwards away from them. Kilgarrah made the sound that passed for dragon laughter and Merlin realized this was still playtime. So as Kilgarrah flew strong and straight Aithusa tumbled, looped, flipped and pirouetted along their path. Always just a bit ahead of them bringing laughter and smiles out of Merlin.

They finally reached the woods just outside of Camelot. Kilgarrah could take him no further. There was no place to land Merlin had dismounted mid-air before. The dragon hovered alongside a tree and Merlin grabbed a thick branch and pulled himself into the tree's branch.

"Merlin I will give you one piece of advice. Sometime suffering can consume the soul if we do not have the support of our friends and loved ones. Be there for your friend."

He had planned to do so anyway, but Kilgarrah's encouragement strengthened his resolve. Aithusa flew up alongside him and butted his ridged head against Merlin's hand. Without thinking Merlin stroked the youngster's ridges and Aithusa' rewarded him by purring with pleasure. Kligarrah chirped and the white dragon closed his beak gently around Merlin's hand for a moment.

"Be careful Merlin and take care." The two dragons flew away into the night, leaving Merlin to make his way home and suffer alongside his king.

* * *

><p>The arena, place of so many victories, stood empty now. The noon-day sun beamed down, baking the hard packed sandy ground and heating his neck and shoulders to the point of slight discomfort. He rubbed his left hand against his thigh to ease a dull ache there. She liked the feeling of the sun soaking into her muscles; he liked standing in the shade of a tree and watching her savor it. Relaxing in the sun was not an activity for the arena.<p>

He had no armor today only trousers and sandals. On this day they would wrestle like Greeks. That dull ache in his left palm increased and he flexed his fingers in an attempt to ease it.

He looked toward the royal box. His mother and father were seated there together; somehow this did not surprise him. Uther's gloved hand rested atop Igraine's. Without looking he knew that the rest of the arena would be empty.

"Mother."

He said her name and she frowned disdainfully before turning to his father.

"He's not ready yet."

"But they've tricked him." Uther said as if it explained everything. Arthur massaged the ache in his left palm and looked up already knowing who would be there.

Lancelot stood, dressed as he, in trousers and sandals. The dead man did not look at him though instead he addressed the pair in the box.

"It matters not, he has to be ready."

Now the knight faced him and in the winking of any eye Lancelot dropped into a crouch and came at him. They were locking up in a test of strength and he wasn't ready, not grounded. He fought back of course, he'd always fight but Lancelot was faster and stronger than he'd ever been in life. Arthur gasped for breath; somehow the other man had gotten him into a chokehold.

He tried to push away, push back, let all of his weight fall on the other man and none of it worked. The knight's position was too solid, too well grounded.

Lancelot's forearm pressed down on his neck and the edges of his vision began to blur. This was dangerous he should tap-out. He gasped for air and Lancelot's arm pressed down harder. His eyes watered and all was a-blur now, the stink of sweat stung his nostrils and the heat of the sun beat down hot and hard.

"I thought you were smarter than this." Lancelot was taunting him? "I stepped aside for you. I gave up my life for you. I thought you were smarter than this."-

Arthur felt his struggles growing weaker.

"I gave up my life for you-"

He tried to lift his hand, tap out but found it heavy.

"-you were smarter than this."

His life was draining away.

- The arena place of so many victories stood empty now noon-day sun baking the hard packed sandy ground heating his neck and shoulders to the point of slight discomfort. He rubbed his left hand against his thigh to ease a dull ache there. She liked the feeling of the sun soaking into her muscles; he liked standing in the shade of a tree and watching her savor it. Relaxing in the sun was not an activity for the arena.

He was here again without armor. He looked to the royal box and saw his parents.

"He's not ready yet."

"But they've tricked him." Uther said as if it explained everything. Arthur massaged the ache in his left palm and looked up already knowing who would be there.

Lancelot stood, dressed as he, in trousers and sandals. The dead man did not look at him though instead he addressed the pair in the box.

"It matters not, he has to be ready." Lancelot came at him and it happened just as before:

"I thought you were smarter than this." Lancelot was taunting him? "I stepped aside for you. I gave up my life for you. I thought you were smarter than this."

Arthur forced himself awake already knowing the outcome

_"I thought you were smarter than this."_ Arthur opened his eyes, _"I stepped aside for you. I gave up my life for you. I thought you were smarter than this."-_

Lancelot's words echoed in his mind and then memory surged. The familiar canopy of his bed arching above him.

_Guinevere's ring on a cord of leather landing on his desk, like challenge._

_ "You killed my sister," _surely a nightmare, surely.

His left hand ached.

He looked down and the silvery moonlight showed his left hand clenched into a fist resting atop the bedding. A telltale leather cord escaped his grasp, black and stark against the creamy white bedsheets. His mouth was suddenly dry. Guinevere's ring would not be there or- if it were this was surely another dream. He flexed his tense, stiff fingers and uncurled them with agonizing slowness, waiting, waiting…

_"You killed my sister."_

The ring lay in a bloody red circle on his white palm.

"No," the tears came hot and fast then "nononono," he sat up bringing his hands to his face for a moment before hurling the ring across the room, rejecting this new reality, this new world. He heard it land with a dull clank on the stone floor. She could not be dead. Arthur got out of bed and hurried to where he thought the ring might have landed.

He needed it, needed to keep it, needed it to give back to her if she ever wanted again, just in case. He didn't see it right away and felt panic surge souring his stomach and raising sweat on his palms. Where? He had thrown her away again. He crouched, coming down hard on his knees, to look under the wardrobe. Silver moonlight glinted from it and Arthur reached for the ring, he needed it- The moon ducked behind a cloud and he groped blindly for a moment before his fingers encountered the warm resistant metal.

Guinevere's ring, his mother's ring- gift of the dead. He closed his fingers around it and sat up breathing deep, weak with relief.

Lancelot, his father, his mother, all the dead that he loved together, all but Guinevere, because…? _Because she wasn't dead!_ He looked at the ring resting in his palm.

"Guinevere," Arthur said her name softly, recalled sliding the ring onto her delicate brown finger, "Guinevere," he said it again and again, like a prayer, a litany caressing the ring with the fingertips of his right hand until a cold dull ache settled into his thighs and buttocks from their contact with the stone floor. He used the wardrobe to pull himself to his feet and leaned briefly against it. He couldn't go carrying it around, it wasn't safe. He needed something other this leather thong.

Arthur opened his wardrobe; he had a simple silver chain amongst his jewelry. He found the chain quickly and very carefully untied the leather cord and replaced it. With a satisfied sigh he settled the chain around his neck and pressed a soft kiss to the ring before letting it settle against the bare skin of his chest.

"Guinevere."

The leather cord was worn and rough but he had to keep that too, keep it safe. It might be the last thing she gave him.

He had pushed the carved oaken box to the back of the wardrobe but of course it was still there. He pulled it forward now, throat and chest growing tight at the memory of her tricking him into buying his own present. He thought briefly of the little things she'd made for him, filling it and making it far more valuable with gifts of love, a pair of knitted socks, a pair of gloves, a belt and a bottle of woodsy cologne all made by her own hand, strawberry jam his favorite. They were not in there now of course. The jam had long since been eaten and accessories were all safely put away.

He opened it intending only to place the cord with his other treasures but then the heady scent of her perfume floated up to him and he inhaled deeply. Arthur let his eyes drift shut. He could imagine her footfalls soft, rhythmic and steady on the floor behind him; she would say his name undoing him with two syllables. He'd turn and she'd be standing there, not in one of her new dresses –he liked them well enough-, but in her old dress the one she'd been wearing the morning he'd kissed her for that first, fatal time. That simple soft linen dress flowing over her creamy brown skin, the bodice embroidered with flowers and peacock. It had that tempting teasing ruffle edging along the neckline taunting him to run one finger along the swell of her breast. She was perfect in that simple dress.

Arthur swallowed the sob in his throat and reached into the box pulling forth the token she'd given him that morning, the gift that had prompted that impetuous kiss.

It had absorbed the scent of her perfume and he lifted it to his nose. Arthur closed the box and took it from the wardrobe where it had sat untouched these last ten weeks, seventy-three days to be exact. He carried the small chest to the table and sat down. The box was now the guardian of her most treasured gifts, things of value to none but himself. He laid the simple token on the table, smoothing the white linen fabric against the gleaming darker wood. From the box he took two roses –now dried- one purple, one red tied together with a ribbon, him and her, her love given to him freely. Arthur placed them carefully atop the linen and turned back to the box. He pulled a folded piece of paper that he could not now bring himself to read forth, another tournament, another token, the braided leather belt that she'd fastened round his waist herself after the pants incident. He stroked the stem of the purple rose and finally lifted out the gift he'd never gotten to give her.

Shortly after their betrothal someone had given Guinevere a silver bracelet. He'd been immediately jealous. _Who_ was giving her jewelry and why? He'd almost insisted that she discard it, but then he though the better of it. It was probably a congratulatory gift, one that would be rude to refuse. No, he had a better plan. A silver cuff bracelet with Pendragon rubies would adorn her arm-far, far better. It was to have been given on their wedding night with a necklace and earrings to follow as customary gifts for the birth of their first son.

Was everything he'd given her now in the possession of bandits? The sliver handled, boar hair bristled brush with comb and matching hand mirror, the setting sun hair clip, the new dresses for which he had purchased the material, the silk stockings he'd fantasized about sliding off her thighs a thousand times, was it all being pawed over by bandits and greedy merchants? What of Guinevere herself? The ring was only a thing, maybe…

Was Elyan right or had she gotten safely away? He could see it now, strange savage men laying rough hands on her. She would resist but…

She didn't like to be alone in the woods.

_"You've got me,"__ "I wasn't going to let anything happen to you."_

He sobbed no longer able to hold it back and the tears followed…He had failed her and it didn't matter that she had betrayed him because she was horribly, violently dead and he had sent her to it. Amidst the remnants of his canceled love, bathed in the pale light of the moon Arthur let his grief flow over him.

* * *

><p><em>Dear readers- for any of you that ever moseyed on over to my LJ you know that The Exile has a wonderful collection of original art created by my younger sister. Unfortunately she is no longer able to work with me. The good news is that sometimes waiting for images would mean I delayed updating by a day or two and I was keeping the number of chapters down in an attempt to have an image for each update. What does that mean for you, dear readers? Why it means shorter chapters and more frequent updates of course.<em>

_The Exile now has a tumblr page check-out theblacksmithsdaughter on tumblr._

_A/N- Utena adolescene soundtrack_

_Episodes quoted in order:_

_1 Merlin Lamia: S4x8 _"Leave him alone!"_- said by Gwen as she charged Lamia  
><em>

_2 Merlin, The Castle of Freyian s3x7 _"You've got me,-said by Arthur to Guinevere as they rode through woods to Castle of Freyian_  
><em>

_3 Merlin, The Last Dragonlord S2x13 _"I wasn't going to let anything happen to you."_ -said by Arthur to Guinevere as Kilgarrah rained fire down on Camelot.  
><em>

_Remember everyone I love your feedback so please review or comment._

14


	11. The Exile, Chapter: Respite

The Exile, Chapter X, Respite

_The story thus far. Believing that Gwen might be dead and feeling that he was ultimately responsible Arthur broke down with his grief. Merlin sought the dragon's help in finding Gwen only to be refused and baby Aithusa was cute. The bracelet came into the possession of bride-to-be Sarah Goode, who decided it would make the perfect wedding day accessory._

* * *

><p>The Exile<p>

Part II

Chapter X, Respite

"Gaius?" Merlin spoke softly hoping the old man might wake but not truly wanting to wake him. When the old man did not wake at his gentle prodding, Merlin sighed and went to his collection of magic books. After Agravaine had questioned Gaius on suspicion of treachery, Merlin had taken magical measures to hide his forbidden books. The warlock lifted his eyes to the ceiling. With a few simple words it opened, dropping the tomes into his waiting hands.

Walking back to the citadel had given Merlin time to think. Arthur could search all of Britannia for Gwen and miss her a thousand times over but magic might find her where all else failed. There were means of scrying and seeing in his books, now was the time to make use of them.

Merlin shut the door to his little room and with a few quick words the candles flared to life. There was always cleaning needing to be done in his room and today was no exception. Laundry littered on the floor, papers, medical logs…he spent so much time cleaning up after Arthur. The young man cleared a space on his bed and sat down with his back against the dull plaster wall and began reading. He found the information he wanted easily enough. Merlin smiled he had recalled correctly

He was considering two options. _Dowsing_ to find her and _seeing_ to discover the outcome of her encounter with the bandit or bandits.

Seeing unfortunately was not like spellcasting or the magic he could do with just a thought. Visions could only be summoned by meditating. Some methods included the use of various tools such as bones, tea leaves, fire reading, tarot cards, the flight of birds, the list went on. Unfortunately none guaranteed a clear vision to a non-seer. Dowsing was more precise. It could be done with a crystal; the steps were very specific. He would know immediately if he were doing it properly.

When dowsing a sorcerer or sorceress selected a crystal and bonded with it. Once bonded with the crystal they concentrated on the person or thing they wished to find. If a map could be used the crystal would point to a location on the map indicating the presence of the lost person or item. If the area being searched was too small for the use of a map, the crystal could be asked to point in the necessary direction.

Merlin weighed his choices. Kilgarrah had assured him that Gwen was either safe or… He did not want to come unknowingly to her gravesite. So while he might want to find her immediately, he knew he must first summon a vision to learn what had been the result of her encounter with the bandit or bandits.

A powerful sorcerer -and he was one- could call a vision simply by meditating upon that which they wished to see. This method was recommended as there was little room for misinterpretation. Merlin placed his pillow on the floor and sat on it tailor's style, facing the east. Merlin took a deep breath filling his lungs and chest before releasing it slowly. He concentrated for a time on his breath and slowly began to build the image of Gwen in his mind as he'd seen her last.

Purple cape belted at the waist, dark curls lose about her shoulders, expression full of sorrow, and weariness as she walked from Camelot alone and defeated. His heart constricted at the memory and Merlin forced himself to concentrate on her as she looked at him over her shoulder. No sooner had he created the image then he thought of The Shade and then Morgana. How for the first time he truly hated her and how he regretted not taking one of his many opportunities to kill her. Then he remembered that he was supposed to be focusing on Gwen and scolded himself for letting his mind wander to The Shade and Morgana.

He couldn't let his hatred of Morgana or his grief for Gwen distract him. He needed to find her. Arthur needed to know Gwen was alive.

He saw in his mind's eye Arthur sitting on the floor, eyes glued to Gwen's ring and crying the most broken, sorrowful sound he'd ever heard. He should have killed Morgana when he had the chance. Gwen would be here right now if he had.

Merlin groaned aloud and opened his eyes.

What had the book called the mind, the chattering monkey? Merlin told his chattering monkey to shut-up and began again with a long deep breath. He had a feeling that this was going to be one of the most difficult things he'd ever done.

* * *

><p>Arthur woke, hard edge of the table pressed against his cheek. Merlin stood over him. His usually cheerful face frowned down at him, pale rather than flushed with life and color. Dark circles under his eyes gave him a ghoulish cast.<p>

"Morning, here's your breakfast," the manservant held the tray expectantly.

"Morning," Arthur's voice came out gravely and hoarse.

Merlin nodded toward the keepsakes spread over the surface of the table. "Shall I-"

"No!" it came out it as a sharp, panicked command.

Merlin rocked backwards, a look of surprised confusion on his face.

Arthur ignored him and quickly gathered his treasures, hiding them safely from the sight of the world including the leather cord that Gwen had worn the ring on.

"Merlin has Sir Elyan departed?"

"His horse is still here but his quarters have been cleared out."

"Find out if he's requested another mount."

"Yes sire."

He needed to do something for Elyan. Do something about Tom's unjust death. Why he hadn't done anything sooner… Merlin sat a rather perfect looking breakfast tray on the table.

"Sir Leon can take over drills this morning."Merlin said, "I've got pages ready with messages to carry to the councilors canceling council for the duration and-"

"-Everything will go on as usual Merlin. My men need training and my kingdom needs me to run it." Arthur rinsed his mouth and chewed the cloves Merlin had provided to clean his breath and teeth before starting his meal.

"You can't pretend that you're unaffected by this," Merlin countered "You love Gwen-"

"That's enough Merlin." He clenched his hands into fist "Get me the flood reports for Waymet; I'll review them as I eat breakfast."

"She loved you-"

"I said enough." He turned to look at the other man, "What am I supposed to do declare a year of mourning for a woman that many people would happily see dead? I'm too early in my kingship. I want the flood reports on Waymet Merlin now."

A moment later Merlin sat a sheaf of paper s on the table. Arthur studied his breakfast plate, it _was_ beautiful, like something George would have put together. He heard the whooshing sound of drapes being drawn and cheerful sunlight flooded the room. Arthur popped a grape into his mouth. It was time to get some work done. Unfortunately his beautiful breakfast had no taste.

* * *

><p>He gripped the edge of the table and stared down at the wood grain trying desperately to breath. Arthur found himself in council with his grief coming on him from nowhere it seemed; sorrow pulling at him like an undertow.<p>

"Sire are you well?" Was that Lord Troy's voice?

He didn't look up, "We're done." His voice was husky and a part of him wondered if they knew why. He thought he would be fine.

He didn't see the councilors shooting worried looks at one and other or Merlin's hands clutched tightly around a sheaf of papers.

"Sire?" It was Lord Gildas now and his tone betrayed confusion.

"We're done, now, leave all of you. You too Merlin."

Arthur hears the scrape of wooden chairs against the floor.

"But sire?" Merlin objects.

There is the rustle of robes, confused murmurs and feet moving in the direction of the door. The pain surged, swelling like the tide and Arthur clenched his hands together, willing himself to remain calm.

"You, too, Merlin." he says each word slowly and carefully without raising his head.

He hears the door is shutting as his head drops to the table.

* * *

><p>Gwaine was feeling downright responsible and he didn't like it one bit. Instead of spending his free time drinking, flirting and bedding available wenches, he was chasing after Arthur, Elyan and Merlin, making certain that they were well and that none of them did anything foolish.<p>

He didn't take Gwen's possible death lightly. He just- his friend's needed him. He did feel terribly guilty though. What had he been thinking to let her go off alone with just a letter and some funds? Certainly she should have been safe if she stuck to the roads and villages but things rarely went according to plan.

They were in Gaius' chambers. Worried about Arthur and feeling out of his depth, Merlin had asked for their help suddenly. Something he had not done in a long while. He, Percival and Gaius sat at the table. Merlin stood arms crossed leaning against the wall looking desperately unhappy. There was a time when he had thought that he and Merlin were friends, now Gwaine was not so sure.

"Gwaine! Did you hear what I said?" Merlin's tone was waspish.

"Yes, third council meeting cut short this week."

"People are starting to talk." Merlin grumbled.

Percival grunted and pushed back from the table, thinking.

Gwaine let his eyes travel over the collection of tubes, bottles, sticks, papers, straw, stones, masks and the seemingly endless clutter that covered every surface of Gaius' room.

"Grief takes time and we may yet get some news of Gwen." Gaius said and Gwaine frowned. This was far more of an optimistic Gaius than he was used to.

"It's creeping up on him," the knight said at last and Percival nodded.

"Creeping up on him?"

"Yes. Arthur's a strictly disciplined and responsible man but his feelings run quite deep. Uther was a bully, only his feelings about things mattered. So Arthur learned to set his feelings aside," Gwaine frowned."He does this now without being aware of it. But that takes a certain type of concentration whether he knows it or not." Merlin was listening attentively now "Drills, training doesn't really require a lot of his attention so he can focus on keeping it all together but the council meetings need concentration, focus. Once his attention is diverted he's not concentrating on holding his grief down so it creeps up on him. He probably sits in there and broods for hours."

"So what do we do?" Merlin said at last and all eyes went to Gwaine.

He hated being responsible.

Gwaine took a deep breath. "I'll talk to him."

Merlin leaned forward quizzically.

"Trust me; I know exactly what to say. Can you make sure he is in his room by himself after dinner Merlin?"

He nodded.

* * *

><p>Gwaine went first to the kitchens for a wineskin and goblets. He'd been weighing this since Elyan had laid the blame for Gwen's apparent death at Arthur's feet. They did not yet know one way or another, what had become of Gwen but he knew precisely what Arthur felt. Sometimes the ear of experience…He wished some letter, some word would come from Adras.<p>

He knocked on Arthur's door.

"Enter," Gwaine took a deep breath and pushed the oak doors open. Arthur was sitting at the table where he sometimes conducted less formal audiences. He wasn't often in the king's quarters. Usually he saw Arthur on the training fields, in the training hall or the dining hall where they often took meals in a group. He surveyed the rooms for a moment. They were neither Spartan nor ostentatious, the few pieces of furniture pleasing to the eye without being distracting. A few shields and banners decorated the walls, proclaiming the history of the king's family and their successes.

"Sire," he bowed.

"Come have a seat."

Gwaine sat down and poured himself and the king a gobletful of wine. He moistened his lips suddenly nervous waiting for Arthur to drink first. When the king merely nodded in his direction Gwaine lifted the goblet to his lips and finished it in one go. Fear gripped him and he poured himself another goblet of wine.

He leant against the ornately carved wooden splat of his chair a moment before leaning forward.

"You wanted to talk to me about something." Arthur prompted eyes narrowed, tone heavy with impatience.

Gwaine traced the rim of his goblet with one finger.

"I've never told anyone this story but" he found suddenly that he wanted to. He drew in a breath and let it out "I think perhaps it is time I do so."

Arthur's brows knitted together in a frown and Gwaine took that as a queue to begin.

"I loved a woman. I wasn't supposed to but I did." For a moment his eyes slid over the carved edge of the table. "She was a friend of mine and wanted a child desperately. Her uh- spouse couldn't give her one so they begged me to do so instead."

Arthur leaned forward and Gwaine knew he had the king's undivided attention.

"I refused at first but their want for a child weighed on them and eventually I gave in. It took a while, months actually and she was sweet, kind and pretty. Of course I came to love her but she did not bear the same love for me."

He took a deep breath and closed shaking hands about the stem of the goblet.

"They were both very happy when she finally conceived. I felt guilty of course and it hurt knowing that she did not have the same feelings for me that I had for her. But seeing their joy, I felt that I had done the right thing. Eight days after the boy was born she died of childbed fever." He finished the second glass of wine and finally looked at Arthur. The king's expression was closed and Gwaine worried suddenly. He rubbed sweaty palms on his trousers and spoke quickly.

"So I didn't want to oblige them in the first place, I loved her and I wasn't suppose too and I wanted her to me love the way that I loved her even though I knew better. Shit I still love her and finally, I feel that I killed her. And I also felt that I had no right to mourn her, she was never mine to love in the first place. All that is to say I know exactly how it is that you are suffering." He meet and held the other man's sea blue eyes then "Give yourself a respite. Say you are ill or some such and talk to Merlin or me when you need to." Gwaine drained a third glass of wine.

"Did you give yourself a break?" The king questioned at last and Gwaine sighed.

"Me?" he snorted "I hired out my sword and rode all over Britain drinking, wenching and picking fights. True fact, losing your true love is the best way to pull women."

"Oh." Arthur said weakly.

The hum of the cicadas reached their ears and the summer breeze stirred the drapes. Arthur, took a sip of his wine, finally.

"At least you have a son."

"My son is with the person that wanted him." Gwaine took a deep swallow from his wine glass "At least she loved you."

* * *

><p>Three days after laying the blame for his sister's death at the king's feet Elyan son of Thomas rode out of Camelot. Merlin had come to see him again, as had Gwaine, Percival, Leon, Bedivere and Kay. Before leaving he had paid a visit to long time friends Enid and Daffyd.<p>

Enid told him some wild story about Gwen having been tricked into her affair by the nobles offended by Arthur's choosing to marry a commoner. He gave her a hug and thanked her for her loyalty. She agreed to take care of the house for him. He visited the cemetery to pray for his mother, father and Padrig and beg his ancestor's forgiveness for his poor choices. Then he rode out of the citadel certain he would never return.

* * *

><p>Arthur canceled a month of summer's council meetings. If need be, they would go a month into the fall. Gwaine was right, he needed respite. The councilors could return to their homes for a month or take in the hospitality of Camelot if they liked. He still drilled the knights in the mornings and then had a few private audiences in the afternoon and met with a councilor if necessary. He considered recalling his uncle. The man could be useful but the thought of Agravaine lit a certain rage in him that he could not shake no matter how unfair it maybe.<p>

"The messengers have gone out with her description." Merlin said.

He pushed away from his work table and walked to the window overlooking the courtyard.

"They understand their instructions?" Arthur watched their horses move out.

"Yes, find her but do not engage, report back to you."

"Exactly."

"What'll you do if you find her?" Merlin asked.

"I… I don't know." Arthur admitted. He wanted to bring her back but… "Merlin there is something else I've been considering." He faced his friend. "Would you like to bring your mother here?"

The manservant stared at him.

"Here?"

"Yes, would you like her closer? I can't promise you she'll be safer, but maybe…" He fiddled with Guinevere's ring, uncomfortable with Merlin's shocked expression. It implied that being considerate of his friend was something so far from normal… He needed to be more considerate. He had thought it enough to give commoners and nobles the same treatment, same respect.

"I-I don't know. I'd like to have her close, but she may not want to leave her home."

"Of course. Very well, ask her and make sure she knows that the offer stands. Whenever she happens to come we will find a place for her here."

"I will," Merlin grinned at him and Arthur felt something akin to humor stirring inside.

"Arthur did you hear the story about-"

Merlin was trying to cheer him up and a part of Arthur was grateful, but- Ever since Elyan had returned with Guinevere's ring…

_"You killed my sister." _The swell pounded the shore-

Merlin was being the perfect manservant, breakfast was always timely, his clothing was clean and wrinkle free, and he did almost everything Arthur ordered without the usual back talk. And it was all a waste. Arthur ate little and only left his quarters to train the knights.

"so the bartender says-"

"I'm exhausted Merlin."

"Yeah…How'd you know?"

"Merlin," he spoke more forcefully "I'm feeling rather tired. Let's finish up so that I may retire soon."

"Oh. Yeah, right of course."

Arthur saw Merlin's disappointment but had no words for him. He couldn't be the person that Merlin was looking for, not right now.

"I recommend you meet with the mason's guild head. Morgana is still out there and they have some ideas about reinforcing the battlements. And you'll need to see Lord Gildas tomorrow and the Duke of Cornwall."

Arthur rolled his eyes. The last thing he wanted to do was meet with the Duke of Cornwall but the man was too powerful to ignore.

"Very well, please extend Sir Gwaine and Sir Percival the same offer I gave you regarding their family."

"Yes, sire." Then less formally, "Thank you Arthur."

"You're welcome. That's all Merlin."

For a moment Merlin looked as if he might say something more, but then he bowed and left.

Arthur started to pace, the shadowy sea of grief and pain swelling around him.

Why had Guinevere betrayed him? If she hadn't they could have been married already. They could be happy right now except, perhaps she wouldn't have been happy. Perhaps she didn't really love him; she'd only said it that one time. Rage surged in him then. Arthur kicked over his armor stand.

_'She loved you.' _She'd said it to him in so many words more than once and she'd shown him as well. Guinevere was a woman of action, she had deftness with words, but when something was important to her she acted. She'd begged Lancelot to look after him1 when she thought he was going to cross the veil, and she'd looked after his father, whom she loathed, for love of him…

Arthur sank into the chair that he'd had positioned by the window, first his father and now Guinevere. Was it his fate to always suffer so?

No, not his fate. He knew that Gaius believed the old sorcerer wanted to help but Arthur could not fully accept that. His choices had ultimately killed his father and perhaps his actions had driven Guinevere into the arms of another man and then to her death.

_"You're inappropriate."_ 2

He could only imagine how that must have hurt her. Maybe then she started to reconsider her choice. How could he have been so foolish? After promising her for years that things would be different when he was king he had failed at his first chance to prove his promise. He hadn't suddenly discovered that there were people who would disprove her rank or lack thereof; he'd simply turned yellow for a moment. It wasn't fair to place that burden on her. For a moment he wondered idly how his mother might have advised him.

Arthur walked to the window. It was full dark now. He pulled on a clean tunic, trousers, boots and his plain blue cape. He was tired, but he could not sleep here.

There were ways out of the palace where no one need ever see him; tunnels that led directly from his rooms and into the lower town. These were on neither map nor the palace plans. Uther had forced him to memorize them when he was ten years of age.

He pushed, 1,2,3 nondescript stones in the wall and smiled as the corner opened to reveal a hidden tunnel. He maintained it himself keeping the door hinges oiled and the tunnel dust free. Just inside the door he had torches, oil-soaked rags and flint. But he ignored these; Arthur knew the way in the dark. He pushed another stone on the inside and the door swung shut with a gentle thud. Arthur counted his steps as he went, peeking here and there into the halls of the palace before he left it behind descending into the damp earth. The king came at last to an exit in the middle town. He dodged the patrols and kept to the shadows, making his way to Guinevere's home. This was not the first night he'd done so. He felt pitiful doing it, but couldn't stop himself.

He looked right and left making certain the streets were empty before slipping into her cottage.

Arthur felt his way in the dark to sit on the bed, wooden floorboards creaking under foot, mind racing back to the times he'd visited her here. The tournament of course, that evening he'd talked to her about knife throwing and kissed her in what had once been her father's work room.3 The evening she had made him dinner and they'd sat up all night talking and- He felt hands begin to shake and he pulled her ring from where it lay against his chest. He studied it in faint sliver of light granted by the waning moon.

Why had she said yes, if she meant no? He would have accepted her rejection if she felt uncertain. He would have been miserable and broken and perhaps selfishly he might have fired her but she would be alive, safe, here…

He reached for her purple cloak, the thing that brought him here night after and wrapped it round his shoulders. Her tiny bed once decreed torture to sleep in still had its same bedding and Arthur laid his head on Guinevere's straw filled pillow. Her scent -lavender, vanilla, honeysuckle- clung to the bedding and her cloak.

"Please be alive." He whispered it into the darkness.

Wrapped thus in her scent, Arthur let his eyes drift shut. Sleeping where she'd slept so many times before, he could tell himself that she yet lived and sleep without nightmares.

Things continued thus for some time. He spent the hours of the day avoiding the court and his subjects, hiding behind weariness. Occasionally he let Merlin convince him to show himself to the people. He received visits from a few councilors, but kept to himself more often than not. He thought often of Guinevere, but also his father, his mother and sometimes even Morgana. He could not sleep in Guinevere's house every night, but he did so thrice weekly. Then one night the unthinkable happened. He slipped into her cottage and found the bedding along with her purple cloak had been removed. Elyan was the owner of the property he might have removed Gwen's things but Elyan was gone. He cried over this and hated himself for it, but it was like losing her all over again.

When this new grief momentarily abated he stumbled out of her home. It held no comfort for him now. He ducked into the shadows between buildings and crouched at the sound of a patrol, his mourning was no one's business. Arthur remained crouched and desolate long after the patrol had passed. And that was how he came to hear it, a scream and then shouting. Unready to return to the palace Arthur hurried in the direction the shouts had come from, past a few houses to a tiny cottage not much larger than Guinevere's. He went to the door of the cottage but hesitated. It could just be a personal quarrel. There was a thud and the sound of pottery breaking.

A blood curdling scream rent the peace of the night and all hesitation was lost. Arthur kicked the door and threw himself against it twice before breaking it open and stumbling into a crime scene. The cottage was dark. The light of a few lamps cast shadows over everything. Overturned furniture littered the one room home. A young blonde woman lay naked and unconscious on the bed covered only partially by a sheet. Two men grappled on the wood plank floor. One dark-haired and fully clothed, Arthur recognized him as an employee from the palace, a man by the name of Rolfe. The second man was fully nude and vaguely familiar.

Fighting was certainly not illegal but if the woman was hurt she needed help not two fools rolling around on the floor.

"Break it up." Arthur commanded. Rolfe still in his servant's livery put his fingers round the other man's neck. Fighting wasn't illegal but murder was.

"I'll snap your neck John."

Arthur grabbed Rolfe by his shoulders and pulled. The other man came away far more easily than expected and they both stumbled backwards the servant's weight dragging him down.

"Rolfe?" A moment later the most foul stench filled the room. Arthur recognized it immediately the scent of intestines being opened. Frowning he brought one hand to his nose and looked down to see Rolfe's blood and guts spilling over both of them. He didn't need to check his pulse to know that the other man was dead.

Arthur looked at the murderer, John. The other man seemed to be weighing his next actions, knife held fast in his fist.

"Do you not recognize your king?" He demanded angrily.

John studied him for a moment and dropped he knife. Arthur eased the servant's body to the ground. He took a deep breath and pulled himself to his feet; mind already guessing at what he had walked into. He vaguely recalled something about Rolfe being recently married, to a Susan- _no Sarah!_ He looked down at the young woman, the events of the evening clear to him.

"You're under arrest for murder, fighting in the presence of the king and adultery."

John backed away. That surging tide of grief swelled high with sudden anger as Arthur advanced on him.

* * *

><p>AN- Have any of you ever tried to meditate? What's happening with Merlin trying is just like that. Your mind just wonders and wonders.

Next week we're back to Gwen in Wyeledon.

So for some crack-brained reason I originally thought _Respite_ and _In the Mourning_ might make one long chapter. I'm glad I split them into two and spent this time on everyone's grief process.

Of course please let me know what you think. Good or bad I love all comments.

* * *

><p>1 The Darkest Hour<p>

2 His Father's son

3 Secure, original fic by AGDoren

13


	12. The Exile, Chapter: Her Own Woman

**The Exile**

**Part II, Chapter XI**

**Her Own Woman**

* * *

><p><em>This chapter was fun for me to write. I got to put in some fun things and do stuff I'd been wanting to do with The Exile for a while. I hope you all enjoy and please feel free to comment.<em>

_The story thus far, Guinevere has a new home and a new name but security and employment elude her as she is pressed to choose survival over happiness. Will Gwen do what she feels it is best to do in heart or will she do as she has often done and make the smart choice?_

* * *

><p>The rear of Madame Santiago's dress shop bustled with activity. Four women in various stages of undress were being fitted for gowns or other items. Madame's employees, also women, wearing simple kirtles with apron's and linen caps, worked on gowns or linings in various stages of completion. She'd seen a number of workshops in the past week. Many of them were strewn with notions, scraps of fabric everywhere. Not Madame Santiago's. Madame's shop had four neat and orderly workstations, each with its own dress form, rack for fabric, shelves for notions such as thread, cord, buttons, hooks etc…The bright scents of sage and rosemary were in the air. Guinevere sniffed deeply and felt herself smiling.<p>

"You approve?" the voice startled her and Guinevere turned to face an older Galician woman standing in the doorway of study, expression smug, hand on hip. Like the other women she wore a kirtle and apron but hers was of a finer quality and richer color and her dark hair was loose about her shoulders.

"Madame Santiago?"

"Yes." The woman inclined her head slightly "You approve of my shop?"

"Oh yes." Gwen smiled. "It is clean and orderly surely a pleasant and productive work place."

"Precisely Ms. Jen," Madame paused. "Please step into my office."

The older woman's office had its own work station much like that of the younger women. However, Madame also had a desk, bookcase and fireplace. Unlike her employees Madame had a door that she could shut for privacy, she did so now.

"Please have a seat Ms."

"Thank you." Guinevere took the simple wooden chair that faced the desk.

"So Ms. Jenafere you are not from Wyeledon?"

"No ma'am. I am from Camelot."

Madame frowned.

"It is a small kingdom west of Cenred's lands and bordered on the north by Caerleon."

"I know something of Cenred's lands. He had some small war a few years back."

"Yes ma'am."

"Ahh. How long have you been in Wyeledon?"

"Four weeks."

Madame nodded. "Wyeledon is a city of travelers, immigrants and visitors. What languages do you speak?"

"My native tongue is Welsh, Latin of course, I also speak the language of the Francs and Anglos and I am learning Galician."

"Very good. Is it in vain to hope that you can read and write?"

"No ma'am. I have learnt to read very well and I can write a legible hand."

"So this outfit you are wearing, is it your own work?"

"Yes ma'am." The outfit was dress and surcoat of rich murrey red. Under the surcoat she wore a white bodice she had embroidered with flowers and birds in gold, green and pink. She'd trimmed the surcoat with the same pattern as the bodice only smaller. She hoped the outfit impressed the older woman. She had gotten both compliments and envious looks on the street.

"May I?" The older woman held out her hands. Guinevere slipped off the surcoat and handed it to Madame. Madame Santiago studied the stitching, embroidery and structure of the piece.

"This is well made and well fitted. Will you stand for a moment?"

Guinevere did as the woman requested and waited patiently while the other woman compared the embroidery on the two garments.

"Very consistent," Madame gave Guinevere back the surcoat and she slipped it on.

"Finish this flower."

Madame produced a kerchief that she or some had been embroidering. Guinevere took and picked up where the older woman left off. She'd been taking similar tests all week. She hadn't worked very long when Madame interrupted her.

"You are clearly quite talented Ms. Jenafere. As long as your references are in order, I may well have a place for you here."

Gwen did not feel her shoulders rise, but she did feel a tingling pain in the back of her head.

"Come, it is evident that you have worked in a great house before and you seem a sensible girl. Unless you were dismissed for some scandal or shame then you should have them."

"I had them." She spoke softly now all the vigor she'd had suddenly gone. "They were ruined during my travels."

Madame sat up and back then. The face that had been so friendly only a moment ago grew cool and shuddered.

_'Scandal, shame, to return to Camelot is on pain of death.'_

"Well you are a talented girl, but without references- I shall think on it. Return in three day's time." She rose as Madame did, face hot with shame. Not for the first time did Guinevere thank god for the coloring that hid the rush of blood to the cheeks.

"I see. Thank you for taking the time to see me Madame. I hope that you will give me all due consideration as I should very much look forward to working in your beautiful shop." Then Guinevere turned and walked stiffly out of the shop.

Gwen stepped into the late afternoon sun and found Tony waiting for her right on time. Father Flaeger had arranged for Tony to serve as her guide. He came from a peasant family. His mother, who was ill, could no longer work so the child took odd jobs.

"How'd it go?"

"Same as always, they like me, they want to see my references and when they can't I get_ "we'll think about it"._" She sighed.

"I'm sorry Ms. Jen but why not write home for more?" His dark face was quizzical

She frowned; she'd been considering that herself.

"Far more easily said than done Tony," Gwen sighed "Paper is not inexpensive, I have to find someone going not just to Camelot but the capital and they have to give the letters to the people who wrote the original references. Then I still have to wait for the new references to be brought here. It is an expensive proposition."

"I spose'." The boy looked at her doubtfully.

"What about you? How did you do today?"

Tony smiled proudly "I earned four coppers while you were having your interviews."

"That's great." Gwen felt a twinge of selfish envy and reluctantly paid the boy a copper for his work.

* * *

><p>Gwen kept herself busy working on her wardrobe and helping Luisa, the housekeeper with chores when she needed a change of pace. Sometimes she helped weed the backyard vegetable garden, other times she helped Luisa prepare the evening meal; anything to keep her mind from her worries. The job with Adras could not start soon enough.<p>

A gentle summer breeze stirred the parlor drapes making the room cool and comfortable. Gwen pressed her bare feet against the cool green and white floor tiles. The upstairs parlor was far too warm to enjoy right now and she wondered how comfortable the second floor rooms would be at the height of summer. Ms. Alfonsa did not have a flat roof that one might sleep on.

"You and Adras are going out tomorrow?"

"Mhmm," Gwen replied as she smoothed the thread before pushing it through the eye of the needle."You should come with us."

Synove's brow creased in the way it often did, but Guinevere had yet to figure out what it meant.

"I should accompany the two of you?"

"Adras needs fabric and you know the market very well."

"Jen I know you need references but Adras? What are going to make for her, pants? If you're going to be making gowns for women I don't understand how that could possibly help."

It was Gwen's turn to frown, "It will demonstrate my skills and work ethic."

"Perhaps, but you'd do better with some more conventional clients I think. Perhaps Mrs. Cerridwyn or Mrs. Ashdown or one of their friends needs new dresses. I'll ask around."

Gwen reinforced the last stitch in the hem of the powder blue russet dress she was working on and stood up. She pulled the dress over her head and smoothed it into place thinking over Synove's words. The dress was designed to fit comfortably over a chemise, stays and kirtle but she'd also wanted to wear it during the summer without the kirtle at least.

"Adras's behavior simply does not trouble me."

"Yes I can see that," the other woman replied dryly and Guinevere ignored her.

"Help me with these laces," She'd added lacing on either side of the dress just below the arms. The ribbons were both practical and decorative. They'd allow the dress to be tightened and loosed without being refitted, which would ideally make it work without a kirtle. Synove tied one side while she did the other.

"Well, look at that," Synove said as they faced the metal mirror Ms. Alfonsa had loaned her."I think it works."

The bodice of the dress was fitting smoothly, the powder blue was bright against her honey brown skin and the embroidered ribbons were pretty darned cute. Gwen smiled. She needed to go flower picking; some dried flowers would look nice in her hair. She didn't need fancy metal clasps.

She faced the other woman then. "What do you think about the neckline, lower?"

Synove grinned and her brown eyes twinkled mischievously "Much lower and you should widen the neckline too. Show just a bit of shoulder and display that lovely collarbone oh and do you have any of that ribbon left?"

Gwen nodded.

"You should make it into a trim for the neckline."

She smiled "I think you're right."

Gwen undid the ribbons and pulled the dress over her head.

"Now about the market, is there nothing I can say that will convince you to accompany? You know the market so well."

Synove started to speak but paused "I had better not come with you; I do have some work to do. However I can tell you who will give you best prices and more importantly what to say to them"

Gwen considered for a moment before nodding in agreement. It seemed that this was the best she was going to get.

* * *

><p>Neither she nor Adras knew how to find the fabric market. Tony was recruited to escort them with the promise of a half-piece.<p>

"This is a new dress," Adras remarked as they walked the streets.

"The ribbons are a nice touch especially with the trim one the neckline. Its quite" she paused a moment before smiling "bold I like it."

"We could always make you one but I don't think it would suit you."

Tony interrupted whatever Adras was about to say just then.

"Here we are Ms. Adras, Ms. Jen."

Adras paid him and Gwen said a quick good-bye to the child before he hurried off to continue plying his trade.

Once in the market Gwen had a fairly good idea of where to go. She remembered the locations of a couple merchants and Synove had told her where to find a few others.

"Had you considered colors at all?" Gwen asked.

"Maybe copper if we can find it."

Gwen nodded "I was also thinking of walnut, virgin blue and emerald green."

"I like those colors."

"What about a nice brocade?"

"For trousers?"

"Yes, why not or perhaps a formal length tunic?"

"A formal tunic?" Adras seemed far more incredulous than she'd expected.

"Or not."

"No, I would love a formal tunic. It's just that every seamstress I've dealt with has always had to have been coerced into making me a tunic for formal wear.

"Well you're employing _me_ now Adras," Gwen smiled, "and you can have whatever you like."

The redhead's eyebrows arched into her hairline and she chuckled.

"Careful Jen, you may yet regret that offer."

"Not if you pay me well enough," Gwen countered cheekily.

The two women shopped for some hours finding the fabrics that best suited Adras' needs and complexion. In the end, they bought all of the colors that Guinevere suggested, two brocades and a few muslins to serve as linings for the new garments. Gwen was going to be busy with this work for some time and her anxiety about finding employment began to ease.

"So Jen, fancy some lunch?" Adras asked.

"It is about that time, sure."

"Do you have a taste for anything in particular, lunch is on me."

Gwen considered for a moment "Fish actually it's so very fresh here."

Adras smiled "Are you sure? We can get red meat and cheese if you like with white bread?"

"I know its simple peasant fare and I do enjoy the richer foods but sometimes cabbage and turnips and peas with a little butter and fish and fresh brown bread just seems heavenly, unless you'd like something else?"

"Oh no Gwaine and I grew up on that simple food and you're right it can be heavenly." The two women shared a smile. "We'll get some fresh fish and whatever vegetables are at the market and walk over to Snake's Wineskin. They'll cook it for us. The cooks at Snake's really know what they are doing. They provide all the herbs and seasonings for you."

Gwen nodded.

Adras made arrangements to have her purchases carted over to Ms. Alfonsa's and then headed over the fish market.

Adras purchased a good sized salmon, a small cabbage, an onion, some garlic and turnips. _ provided the herbs and seasonings. The atmosphere was friendly not unlike the taverns back home plaster walls and ceilings supported by wooden beam and simple wooden chairs and tables. They waited in a short queue to hand the fish and vegetables over to the cook and then found a table.

"We have no...taverns -taverns is not the right word- like this in Camelot, seems rather convenient."

"Supposedly it is a Roman kitchen."

"Do the merchants imitate the empire in all things?"Gwen faintly amused, "I'm surprised they don't wear togas and leather skirts."

"Oh some of them do! Come July you'll see them walking about full of pride at their _civilized_ ways rubbing their swollen bellies, with gold wingtips on their sandals." Adras shook her head in bemusement and Guinevere laughed, not at all certain if she wanted to see the picture Adras' words created.

They didn't have to wait very long for their food to be brought to them. The plates were beautiful. Turnips and peas cooked to perfection, dressed with little sprigs of parsley, salmon lying alongside it, in perfect fillets, the spicy fragrance of pepper, garlic and onion teased their nostrils.

"It smells wonderful," Gwen said wide-eyed.

"I told you Ma is the best."

The two women dug into their meal. Guinevere savoring first the warm buttery taste of the salmon and then the slightly sweet tender flavor of the turnips.

"You did well back there."

Gwen wiped her mouth and sipped at the mead. "What do you mean?"

"With the merchants I always pay ten times that amount."

"Ten times?"

"They come to my house and I bargain them down of course. But damn, I never get deals that good. Perhaps I should start going back to the market."

"Perhaps," Guinevere shrugged."Adras 'um were you planning to write Gwaine about meeting me?"

"Yes actually but I hadn't yet."

"Would you mind terribly not writing him yet?"

Adras was silent for a long moment brown eyes locked on hers.

"Why?" She said at last and took a bite of her food.

"I didn't leave under the best circumstances." She pleading tone creep into her voice "I'd like to write him myself once I'm more 'er established."

Gwen bit her bottom lip and watched Adras intently. She knew that the other woman wanted Gwaine to know that she was doing as he'd asked. She just hoped Adras didn't mind waiting a little while yet.

Finally the red-head nodded and Guinevere relaxed.

"Thank you."

"Just short while though," Adras admonished and Gwen nodded in agreement.

"Yes of course." Guinevere took a bite of her fish then and sighed as the warm buttery taste of salmon filled her mouth.

"You're really enjoying that," Adras said

Her eyes flew open and she smiled. "It's really good. I'm glad we came here."

"Good," Adras sipped her mead and leaned forward a bit "Tell me how it is that you know my brother."

"He didn't tell you?"

The other woman shook her head negative, wiped her mouth and took a sip of her mead.

"No. Letters from Gwaine are few and far between seeing as how he never learned to read and write. He only told me that you were a dear friend, "_that you were a wonderful, kind and caring woman, there was some trouble afoot and to please look out for you." _I know very little of your history or your friendship with Gwaine."

"Well it's very simple he is a knight to the king and I was a maid at the palace. After he became a knight he did not become unfriendly to servants and so we retained our friendship."

Adras nodded "That is very like him. Though," she paused "I still don't understand how it is that he became a knight at all. That is certainly not something he ever wanted before. I thought surely when he left for Camelot he'd back in a few months but…I just don't understand it. The Gwaine I know wanted no part of nobles or royalty."

"Ahhh- the king of Camelot is somewhat different. He promoted a number of commoners for knighthood and respects all people no matter their station."

"You speak highly of him."

"He is a good man, I suppose." Guinevere frowned. "But Gwaine is a good man too. He and a good friend of mine are very close." Gwen launched into the tale of Gwaine and Merlin's first meeting.

* * *

><p>After lunch Guinevere and Adras went back to Ms. Alfonsa's. There Gwen fitted Adras for a muslin lining that would serve as the guide for all trousers she made for the taller woman going forward. From there she'd make a partial lining and have Adras over for another fitting. If they were satisfied she'd use the guide to make all the other pants. If not Gwen would make the necessary adjustments and refit the lining. If she was doing her job properly then she shouldn't have to refit the lining more than once.<p>

Guinevere spent the next couple of days in the parlor working on Adras' order and listening to Synove sing, Ylsa tell stories or Kerenza talk about her work for . It seemed now they were looking into the philosopher's stone. Ms. Alfonsa was out on business both days but stopped in to chat with her from time-to-time.

"You have been working so hard these past few days, Jen." Ms. Alfonsa walked into the parlor on that third afternoon.

"Well I'd like to get this work done for Adras as quickly as possible."

"Of course," Ms. Alfonsa moved one of the chairs to the other side of the end table Gwen was using for her sew basket and notions."I understand you've been having a difficult time with your job search."

Gwen sighed, "Yes, my references were ruined when I fell in the river."

"Unfortunate that," Ms Alfonsa took a deep breath "I understand Mr. Theobauld's household still needs a maid."

Gwen grimaced. The idea of being a maid again made her quite sick.

"Hear me out." Ms. Alfonsa said "I like you Jen a lot and it is unfair that you're having such difficulty. Unfair as it is you must understand. If you turn down opportunities for honest work and are later unable to pay your rent I will find it difficult to be sympathetic. I know you don't want to be a maid and I don't blame you, but a smart woman of character and good background must be eager to take the honest work comes to her. Especially when that work will allow her to build the references she so dearly lacks."

"I have this work from Adras and surely I shall find more. Synove has said she will recommend me to her employers."

"That's all well and good but there are no guarantees on these things. Take the maid job Jen," Ms. Alfonsa squeezed her arm gently "else I shall find it difficult to be sympathetic to you in the future." With that Ms. Alfonsa rose and smiled down at her "I hope we understand on another dear."

Gwen watched the older woman as she strode from the room and a new sense of unsettledness washed over her.

* * *

><p>Gwen squinted at the late morning sun. Normally she loved letting the heat wash over her and soak into her muscles. Today it made her sick. Or maybe it was something else. The meazlis case in portside of the city was now several meazlis cases and the city officials were starting to wonder if this was the beginning of an outbreak. If that were the case, the sight of reaper's cart loaded with the tiny bodies of children would soon be a regular sight. Having survived meazlis as a child Gwen had nothing to fear but no one liked that sight. Her steps brought her home and Gwen open the door to find Ms. Alfonsa and Ylsa in the foyer chatting.<p>

"Ahhh Jen I was just on my way out. The interview went well?"

Somehow she stretched her face into an unenthusiastic smile.

"They want me to start Monday."

"I know you have doubts about this Jen but you will see it is a wise choice," Ms. Alfonsa congratulated her and headed out the door.

"You want to play a game of solitaire or are you gonna be working on Adras' clothes?" Ylsa asked.

"Actually I feel kind of sick. I'm going to lie down."

Gwen lay down on her bed with a sigh as her stomach twisted. The upset had started almost the moment she'd agreed to start work on Monday. The walk home had only made her nauseatingly hot and now her head was starting to hurt.

"You feel sick Jen?"

Gwen looked over her shoulder to see Ylsa standing beside her bed. She hadn't heard the other woman follow her.

"Yes."

"What's bothering you?" The midwife's tone was incredibly gentle.

"I feel nauseas and my head hurts." Gwen was surprised to hear a vaguely plaintive tone in her voice.

"Scoot over a bit."

She did as the other woman asked and felt Ylsa's weight settle beside her.

"Being a midwife I know something about stomach upsets."

She felt Ylsa's fingertips marching in small soothing circles along her back and the woman began to hum. Very slowly the knot of tension in her stomach began to loosen. A familiar tune, one her mother had sung to her when she wasn't feeling well.

"I think you just have a case of nerves." Ylsa said softly "Try to relax, try to sleep. I know you don't always sleep well."

She started humming again and Gwen felt a slow lassitude seem to settle over her. Ylsa was right she didn't always sleep well. She followed the soothing melody of the tune Ylsa hummed and let her breathing fall in time with it. Slowly, slowly the ache in her head began to dissipate as if the tension were somehow flowing out and away with the song.

"That's right you feel better now hmm?"

"Yes."

"No more tummy ache, no more head ache?"

Gwen chuckled at her friend's words.

"No. I feel much better actually."

"Good. You don't want that job do you?"

"No. I don't want to be a maid. Once was enough."

She felt her stomach twisting.

"Stay calm. If this job is gonna make you sick then don't take it."

"But I need money. What if I run out of savings and this job is gone and no one will hire me? Then what?"

"What's worse? Fearing you won't find work in the future or taking a job that will make you ill in the present?"

"I do not know. The job would be safe, secure but…"She thought back to the last time she'd made the safe choice, at the river.

"Security is important but sometimes you must take risks as well. Everyone in Wyeledon takes risk. We are all immigrants it was a risk to come here without family or support."

"I came by accident." Gwen murmured.

"By accident to a city of risk perhaps you were guided here to learn something of yourself to learn to gamble on yourself."

"I don't know Ylsa."

"It is your decision. Now as a midwife I know a lot about health and I am ordering more sleep for you. Tomorrow the two of us shall go and pick some herbs to make a sleeping potion for you and also a distress potion."

"That is a good idea." Guinevere shifted onto her side so that she could see her friend's face. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"You know herbs?" Ylsa asked expression piqued.

"Yes, I studied a lot with the court physician back home."

"Oh. Hmm, why didn't you say so? I need help keeping all my potions and remedies mixed and fresh. If you know herbs and plants I'll gladly pay you to gather and prepare some for me."

Gwen felt her eyes widen. "Really?"

"Yeah, I pay some of the local children but they don't know the herbs as well and they can't prepare them. Someone with medical knowledge though would be a big help. You may even be able to help Kerenza. She sometimes has to make preparations too."

"Well I'd be glad to. I'm feeling a lot better now actually."

"Good. Now why didn't you mention this knowledge sooner?" Ylsa's tone was chiding and Gwen gapped at her.

"I hadn't finished and besides I'm not certain I want to be a physician anymore they are always employed by houses and lords and I don't want to be attached to a family."Gwen yawned as she was finishing. The lassitude that had settled over her while Ylsa tended her headache seemed to be surging again.

"Ooohhh I think I see. We'll talk about this later. Get some sleep; Mr. Howard will be here soon."

"Mr. Howard? This will be his second time coming to see you this week."

Ylsa preened "I'm letting him take me to all the plays."

"Oh, well you are looking lovely. Enjoy!"

"Thank you." Ylsa patted her hair and smoothed her pink dress. "I'll check on you when I get home." The two women kissed each other's cheeks.

When Ylsa had gone Gwen let the lassitude wash over her as she drifted into sleep.

* * *

><p>Gwen opened her eyes. The golden light of the sunset stained the walls of their bedroom a warm sepia. She could not recall what she dreamed, something about Arthur and being safe but unsafe.<p>

_"I want you to be as secure as I can make you." _He'd said those words to her on more than one occasion. Her mind wondered to the last time.

"Gwen," Arthur took her hands as he so often did, twining his warm, strong fingers with hers to pull her close to him. "I've missed you."

Guinevere felt a sweet, pounding swell her heart at those words. They were in his room suite standing near his desk weak autumn sunlight of late afternoon shone through the windows.

"I missed you too."

He smiled and leaned down to press a soft kiss against her lips. She smiled slightly even as she kissed him back. She'd missed this too, his arms, his lips, and the scent of cassia, sandalwood and cloves that always clung to him, the sea blue of his eyes. He pulled back a bit and she pressed forward not ready to be done with his kiss.

"Wait," his words were soft but urgent and he brushed gentle fingertips against her lip. "I don't want to forget." Arthur turned away from her for a moment and she let her eyes travel over the length of him. Taking in his blue tunic and vest the way his muscles pushed and shaped the fabric, his proud profile.

"I have something for you." His had squeezed hers and Gwen felt a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"A present but you don't have-"

"I wanted to." He faced her then, eyes warm and serious, a red silk wrapped bundle in his large hand.

Lately if Arthur left for more than a few days he always returned with some little gift for her. Gwen felt a stirring of excitement as she eyed the bundle in his hand she was getting used to these little presents. The silk itself was beautiful a long length of luxurious bright red, gleaming in the late afternoon sunlight begging to be touched. She took it from him and felt the softness of the material and the hard metal it concealed. Gwen eyed him curiously before unwrapping the silk to reveal a bronze hair clasp.

The sun dropping below or perhaps climbing above the horizon had been carved in exquisite detail, rays bending and curving, blossoming like a rare black flower.

"It's beautiful Arthur."

He was smiling a very pleased self-satisfied looking smile.

"Thank you."

"Try it on."

"All right."

Gwen sat the ornament on Arthur's desk and began undoing her braid very conscious of his eyes following her hands through her hair.

"Tell me about your trip." She said suddenly nervous at his scrutiny.

"Nothing to tell, it was rather boring actually." He fingered one of her stray curls. "We met with King Bayard of Mercia and discussed whether or not there would be a problem with the Saxons. It seems the Wyeledon merchants have made some sort of arrangement with the Galician. So that port is at least secure. No Vikings or raiders should be expected from there but there are so many inlets for invaders to land in."

"That doesn't sound boring at all." Gwen shook out her curls and felt her face grow hot as Arthur's gaze darkened and narrowed.

"Turn about," he said softly.

"Hmmm?"

"Turn," he emphasized by pantomiming with his hand.

"Very well," Gwen turned still thinking to do up her hair when she felt Arthur's larger hands close firmly round her own and his firm chest briefly brushed her back.

"Let's put these here." He lowered her hands gently to her sides, pressing them briefly to her hips. A moment later she felt a soft kiss on the back of her head

"I may not be a handmaiden but I am certain I can do up a hair clasp."

She started to turn, retort on her lips but his hands warm and firm on her shoulders kept her gently but firmly in place.

"Now you were saying that the meeting didn't sound boring at all?"

"Not at all." The feel of his hands sliding gently over her elicited a little sigh and she felt him making a simple part in the center of her hair.

"It sounds exciting and perhaps a bit scary."

"Scary?"

"Just a bit."

_Was he smelling her hair?_ A moment later she felt a soft lingering kiss on the side of her neck.

"I thought you were doing my hair?" She chided lightly.

"I am I assure you," his breath was warm against her ear "but truly Madame you shouldn't have such a lovely tempting neck. What am I to do when presented with this silk, honey skin but adore it with kisses?" His words set her a tingle as if he were indeed pressing soft kisses there.

His fingertips slid along the column of her throat and leaned into his touch savoring the feel of them.

"As you wish Madame," a moment later he was gathering her hair and fastening the clasp so it sat loosely at the base of her neck."You'd have been brilliant at the conference."

He pushed the ponytail forward over one shoulder.

"No, I'd have blurted out something ridiculous at the wrong time."

"Guinevere," he turned her about "You do have a penchant for speaking your mind but you speak with such wisdom. I've heard about how you handled my uncle when we were away. Your words were quite the weapon to defend Camelot from cowardice."

She grew hot with embarrassment.

"You heard about that?"

"Yes, I was quite proud of you." He toyed with the curls resting on her right breast.

"Of me?" Gwen pushed her ponytail back over her shoulder so that her hair now hung down her back. Arthur pouted at her but she stared him down.

"So you were proud of me?"

"Yes absolutely."He rested his hands on her waist and kissed her again briefly. "Now I have something else for you." He turned back to the desk and pulled a small felt pouch from the chest on the writing table.

"Arthur," she frowned "is that money?"

"Yes. Guinevere, this is a bonus. An acknowledgement of the work you've done on Camelot's behalf nursing my father," he swallowed all playfulness gone from his expression. "I could not have concentrated on running the kingdom if I'd have been worried about who was looking after him."

"Arthur," she took his face in her hands, and fixed her eyes on his. He must be made to understand this, "If taking care of you and taking care of this kingdom means taking care of him so be it."

He looked down and then looked back at her eyes pleading for something.

"You're giving me something that I did not give to you."

"That was in the past. We were different then."

"-I know but I want to- Let me acknowledge it-"

"It's an act of love; it can only be repaid in kind."

He had kissed her then deeply. Crushing her body to his as if she were the most important thing in the all the world. The strength and solidness of her muscles of melted away and she pressed close to him taking all that he had to offer.

Two days later she returned home from work and found the felt pouch sitting on her table with a note not unlike the one he'd left with the pouch of silver he'd given her a few years ago. Only this note ordered her to keep them. When she'd opened the pouch and seen the gold inside Gwen had nearly fainted from the shock.

_Six, gold, coins. _

The only one of Arthur's remaining gifts. _Six, gold, coins_ enough to buy her room and board at Ms. Alfonsa's for two years. _Six, gold, coins_ given to serve her when she needed it.

_"I want you to be as secure as I can make you." _

Gwen got out of bed; black curls messy from sleep. She had six gold coins and it was time to part with at least one of them.

* * *

><p>Ruby890 asked for a little bit of Arthur in this chapter. I suspect it wasn't quite what Ruby was looking for but I hope you liked it.<p>

How did you guys like the Arwen flashback? I've been wanting to put those two in a room together for weeks now, this was the first time it's made sense in the story though. Please remember to comment and also have a look at my tumblr TalesoftheBlacksmith'sDaughter, its dedicated to The Exile and my other Merlin AU fanfic.

Next week we are back in Camelot, for Chapter XII. Already close to the edge Arthur and Merlin learn some painful truths.

17


	13. The Exile,Chapter: And the Truth Will

The Truth Will Out Chapter 12

The Exile

-Part 2, Chapter XII

And The Truth Will Out

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><p><em><strong>Hi everyone this chapter has been the most difficult thus far but its also one of the most important. Please let me know what you think with your comments this was very hard work and I like to what you all think be it good or bad.<strong>_

**_The story thus far: Arthur stumbled into a brawl all to similar to the duel he fought with Lancelot after discovering him in the council chamber with Guinevere. Only this duel ended in murder. An seeing far too much of himself in the dead man Arthur turns on the killer ready to mete out the king's justice._**

**_Characters: Arthur,Merlin, Gaius, OC: Magistrate Grigor/Efan, rating on this chapter is Mature for violence, adult concepts, morbid actions and behaviors, don't read at work or if you're wanting a pick me up.  
><em>**

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><p>Arthur closed his hand round the back of John's neck and pulled the other man to his feet.<p>

"You've murdered an innocent man," righteous indignation swelled in him "a descent loving husband that only wanted to make a life for himself with the woman he loved." He hurled the other man into tall chest of some sort and watched him fall backwards stumbling onto some broken pottery.

He leaned over John, glaring as the other man scrambled backward over broken pottery, wincing and pathetic. It only made him angrier.

"Please sire," John held up one hand in entreaty.

"You cuckolded this man in his own home. Did you think about him, about his reputation about his heartache?"

"Sire it wasn't like that."John held up on hand as if to ward off further punishment.

"Of course it wasn't," Arthur growled "you thought only of yourself, of the moment."

He pulled John to his feet heedless of the other man's blood. Rather than hurling him toward the wall he turned him and pulled John's arm up into the small of his back forcing it higher and then higher still.

John cried out in pain.

"I could break this arm." He said "I think that's what _I would like_ to do."

"Your majesty?" Arthur looked up and saw the tall cloaked figure of Magistrate Grigor in the doorway of the cottage, lamp held high.

"Grigor?" He released his hold on John immediately.

For a long moment the magistrate only looked at him taking everything in and Arthur fought the urge to shrink back from the older man's scrutiny.

"Forgive me sire but what stinks?" The magistrate's dark face frowned as he pressed his free hand to his nose. Arthur felt a bit of relief that the other man made no comment at what he'd witnessed.

"You've got a murderer to deal with Grigor and an adulteress." He glanced at the woman still unconscious and wondered briefly at that.

"Murder and adultery?" Grigor replied dryly and strolled into the tiny house.

"I leave it in your hands then," Arthur strolled out before Grigor could attempt to engage him in conversation. He wanted nothing more than to get back to the palace and get changed. He'd gotten no more than a few feet when a woman dodged into his path

"Sire forgive my boldness," the woman was bowing her head giving him the view of only a linen cap and few strands of dark fly away her. When she spoke her words quick and breathless, "you may not recognize me. I am Enid, a friend of the Goode family."

Arthur took a breath "What can I do for you?"

She lifted her head, wide eyes, pale and desperate met his own.

"Sire, you must help up. Sarah is not an adulteress some evil magic has pushed her to this. Please don't leave this in the hands of the magistrate. It's more than he can handle."

"Magic?" Arthur felt his upper lip curling "you are mistaken Madame." He turned to go and started when he felt the woman's hand clutch his arm.

There were tears in her eyes when he looked back at her.

"Please sire, I beg you." The grip on his arm tightened but the hand trembled. "There is a curse on the city. Rolfe Goode may be the first to die but this is the twelfth such incident in fourteen weeks sire, he will not be the last."

"Twelfth?"

Fourteen weeks, fourteen weeks since he had banished Gwen.

"Adultery and murder are common enough incidents."

"Sire, please listen. If you love your people as they say you do then, you must listen. Do not let whatever curse it is that is upon the city continue to spread, we need you." She fell silent desperate eyes locked on his.

Arthur turned to face her "What do you believe is happening other than simple human weakness?"

She took a breath.

"Well speak."

"In little more than three months twelve women have betrayed their husbands. Twelve good honest women sire all living with just these few blocks. All of them have turned down once beloved beaus and spouses for men that they had previously rejected."

Arthur's eyes narrowed. "Perhaps they simple revealed their true natures? People, women in particular are often not what they seem. "

She drew back a bit but pressed on.

"Sire please don't dismiss this. One might prove treacherous, two might but twelve, no. Please question them yourself. If something is not done there will be no peace and more people will die."

"Magistrate Grigor" Arthur called to the older man.

"Yes sire," The magistrate came outside.

The magistrate was an older man, very tall and with night dark skin and large dark eyes. Normally large eyes gave the impression of youth or naiveté but on Grigor they gave the impression of seeing everything. In spite of the very low noble rank of Yeoman, the magistrate gave an impression of being outranked only by the king himself. His family had a long history of service to the crown.

"This is the twelfth such case of adultery in fourteen weeks?"

He took a moment before responding surveying both the king and Enid, eyes narrowing ever so slightly on seeing the other woman.

"Yes your majesty."

"And this is unusual?"

He drew in a deep breath his dark face gleaming under the torchlight.

"Most unusual sire," he paused clearly thinking "people will always catch us unawares with their actions but this is different. Even when people surprise us there is rhyme and reason to their acts, consideration of their own interest that is lacking here."

"Because it is a curse," Enid hissed vehemently.

The magistrate frowned and rubbed his forehead for a moment.

"Do you believe these twelve affairs to have been caused by magic?"

"Possibly sire."

"Why else would it be happening like this," Enid blurted out and bowed "I apologize for speaking out of turn, sire."

"You make a point." Arthur acknowledged and turned his attention back to Grigor "You did not believe this to be worthy of the attention of the crown?"

Again the older man was silent for a long time.

"I had hoped to resolve it myself since these crimes are under my jurisdiction and truthfully sire no one wants to poke the angry bear." Grigor looked at him pointedly.

"Bear?"

"_Angry_ bear."

Enid cleared her throat, "Sire, if I may."

Arthur nodded

"This is too many in too short a time. What else would make women in Camelot destroy their relationships by adultery one-by-one?"

"I do agree with her sire I have dealt with all manner of crimes, adultery included. These recent cases _are_ irregular for many reasons."

Arthur considered something his father had once cautioned him about regarding the people's fear of magic.

"How is it that you attempted to solve this problem Grigor?"

The magistrate looked away mouth twisted. For a long moment he was silent lamplight flickering over his dark face. When he looked back the older man locked his dark eyes on the king's.

"I consulted with the druids sire."

Enid let out a gasp.

Arthur measured the other man. There was no fear in him just proud defiance as he faced his sovereign, chin high, shoulders squared.

"Magic Grigor?"

"I assure you I broke no laws. I left Camelot to speak with the druids, I practice no magic myself and I brought no druids into Camelot."

"Consorting with practitioners of magic is illegal, is itself a crime," Arthur said.

"Forgive me sire but you were not here in the days _before_ the purge, I was. I saw both the evil and the good. I saw magic bend time and nature and I saw it save lives and protect people from beast that we have fought at much greater cost under both your reign and your father's. I believed and still believe that we are dealing with magic and I thought it best to consult with those who might offer the insight of experience."

Arthur frowned he could not defy the magistrate's logic but he was not yet certain what he thought of the man's actions.

"We will consider your actions later. I will supervise this investigation going forward. However magistrate I still require you do your job."

"Of course sire."

Arthur halted a passing patrol "Wait here."

"Sire if I may make a suggestion?"

"Please do so."

He glanced pointedly at Enid who was watching them with anxious eyes, the two men moved a little ways away.

"We need to keep Sarah from her lover and ignorant of her husband's death for a time. We'll get the best information from her that way sire."

Arthur considered that for a moment before turning back to Enid.

"Get her dressed and take her to the court physician, if she wakes do not tell her anything You," he motion to one of the patrol "help her get the young woman inside the house to the palace."

"Yes sire," they said it in unison and went into the house.

"Guard."

"Your majesty."

"See to it that John is placed in a cell alone in the dungeons and allowed no visitors. Also have one of your men escort Sarah and Enid to the palace. Do not speak of what has happened here tonight to either of them. Once Sarah has been turned over to Gaius keep a guard on the door and send Enid directly to me."

"Yes sire," The guard bowed and began issuing orders to his men.

Arthur turned to the magistrate who wore only a light cloak over his bedclothes.

"Gather your evidence Grigor, I expect you in an hour. We will settle this tonight."

"Yes your majesty, thank you." The older man bowed and started toward his home.

Arthur hurried back to the palace mind full with the evening's experiences. A man had been murdered in his lap; the people believed the city was under a curse, Grigor was consulting with druids and he smelled. Arthur told himself to anger the current of emotion swelling around him he had work to do.

* * *

><p>Magistrate Grigor hurried to his home; his thoughts rushing from on topic to another. The plan had been to find the token, build his case and then perhaps partner with the court physician to present it. Now the king was involved and he still had not determined the source of the magic.<p>

"Well?" Efan was there almost the moment the door opened. She looked up at him with wide anxious eyes, her black-brown waist length curls tumbled from sleep. She'd lit a few candles and shadows danced over her pale face and creamy white wrapper.

"Is Sarah well?"

He rested his hands on her shoulders and squeezed them gently.

"I don't know. She was unconscious when I left her. John the weaver has been arrested apparently they were having an affair."

"Oh god! Not another one." She took a step back and paced to the mantle.

"There's more."He told her then about Rolfe being dead, about the king having taken over the investigation. He left out how he'd found the king beating the snot out of John and threatening to break his arm.

"You can tell him your theory at least."

"Yes."

"Grigor what is it?"

He licked his lips "I haven't found the token."

"No, you haven't but you've plenty of evidence and Arthur trust and respect you. He'll listen to you."

He studied his wife's pale face in the candlelight. Her wide blue eyes were serious and encouraging. Not many people knew the king better than Efan. She had been his wet nurse during his infancy and was the closest thing he had to a mother. When the prince had been ten years of age then King Uther had arranged the match between Grigor and his wife.

"It's not right what's happened to Gwen and Arthur."

"We're going to fix it darling." He stroked her dark curls not really seeing the strands of grey that showed the passage of time and age. Some said that Efan and Gwen were quite similar. Same height, similar builds, same curls, same wide easy smiles, and pointed little chin. Efan's skin was creamy white where Gwen's was cinnamon brown and Efan's eyes were quite blue while Gwen's were a warm brown but both women were very similar.

He gave her a quick soft, kiss.

"I'm going upstairs to get dressed can you get my two most recent log books and my notes for the past two months?"

She nodded, "Do you think it's going to be a long night?"

Grigor considered that "Perhaps."

"Shall I pack you a couple of drumsticks and bread?"

"Thank you darling but if I need to I'll find something at the palace."

"Grigor how was he? Did he look unwell?"

Grigor thought back on what he'd witnessed at Sarah's. Arthur was no sadist or tyrant but he'd been taken some satisfaction from beating John.

"I'm worried about him," was his reply.

She frowned.

"Let me go darling the king expects me."

"Of course," she took a step back and went to go get the log books. Grigor headed upstairs to dress.

Once he was dressed Grigor took a moment to review his notes. Even though Arthur was now king, Grigor still thought of him very much like a son. As Arthur had grown older, Uther had grown colder, ruling him rather than parenting him. Grigor had done his best to provide the young prince with the emotional support he needed. Seeing Arthur and Gwen pulled apart, learning that Gwen might have been enchanted- He and Efan ached for them and now these rumors about Gwen…

Grigor said a quick prayer before heading down stairs.

"Efan you've got my log books?"

"Yes!"She came out of the kitchen carrying his log books and a little bundle. Grigor found himself smiling at her consideration.

"Darling I told you not to trouble yourself with anything to eat."

"I know you did but give it to the king if you don't eat it and send him my love."

"All right," he kissed her cheek and headed out the door. It was time to fix this.

* * *

><p>Merlin sat down on the floor of his chamber facing the east. For three weeks now he'd been working to find Gwen. Working and failing in every spare moment. When meditating to learn her fate his mind turned again and again to Morgana and The Shade. When dowsing to discern her location nothing happened. He was completely blocked but he had to keep trying. Tonight he was doing something different instead of attempting to keep his focus with Gwen he was going to let his mind go down that other path, his follow his anger with Morgana and himself.<p>

He built Gwen's image in his mind with practiced ease and concentrated on what he wanted to see- the meeting between her and the bandit.

He saw her for the hurrying through the woods as the setting sun at her back. Finally she came to a stream and Merlin could truly see her sad state. Her curls were braided into thick, messy plaits, red scratches stood out against skin turned white with ash. Her once attractive clothing was dirty, torn and bedraggled. He saw no sign of the cart.

She drank from the stream and then sat down a few feet away.

Don't camp there. Don't you know how dangerous it is? Everything and everyone will come to the stream. _Was this how she had run into trouble?_ His anger flared at the thought and Morgana was before him as he had seen her last, unconscious on the forest floor. Instead of forcing his thoughts back to Gwen he let them go where they would.

He was there not as Dragoon the Great, he was himself and he had a knife in hand. Merlin watched as he moved quickly and quietly to Morgana. He knelt beside her and then swiftly and smoothly slit her throat. Merlin groaned inwardly, well aware of the fact that if he'd taken one of his many opportunities to kill Morgana, Gwen would be alive and well right now. But he hadn't. How did it help to dwell on what ifs? He saw himself slitting her throat again and winced away. He didn't really want to do that, he was no murderer.

_Then why not give everything over to Morgana? You may not want to kill her but she will happily kill you. It wasn't good enough for her that Lancelot sacrificed himself she had to torment his spirit as well make him an instrument of destruction turned against those he loved. Gwen was her friend, someone she loved and where is Gwen now thanks to that love. She'd murdered her own father terrible though he was. She will show no mercy to you or Arthur or Gaius or Gwaine._

_But I'm no murder._

_Then why bother finding out where Gwen is if you're not going to anything different. If she was alive would you bring her back here to fall under Morgana's threat again?_

He hadn't considered that. Morgana's love for Gwen had become hate; sweet, loving Gwen would always be in danger from her.

_Exactly, the inner voice hissed._ Suddenly his choice was quite clear. Morgana would come at them again and when she did she would not survive the encounter.

He was back at the stream. Gwen was sitting and then lying down to sleep. And then they were in the council room and she was pulling The Shade's lips down to hers a knowing smile on her face. Merlin felt his anger flare but not for Morgana this time. _How could she have betrayed them?_ The peace he needed to summon a vision shattered. Merlin opened his eyes. _He was mad at Gwen?_ He pushed up from the floor, slowly stretching his stiff limbs. He needed a break, he had expected to think through this thing with Morgana and be able to focus on what he needed to know

His stomach rumbled; he hadn't eaten before starting this evening. Merlin headed into the outer chamber.

Gaius was sitting unmoving at the table where they took their meals, his expression far away and sad. In one hand he held a piece of paper and the other a bracelet.

"Gaius?"

When the physician did not look up at the sound of his name Merlin grew worried.

"Gaius?" He gave the older man's shoulder a gentle shake.

"Merlin," Gaius looked up, firelight flickering on his face. Had he been crying?

"Gaius are you well?"

"Enid was just here," he paused "she has brought the most terrible news." Gaius studied the scrap of paper in his hand and let out a breath. "She told me," the older man stopped again and glanced at Merlin, "she told me that she thought there was a curse on the city."

"A curse? Gaius are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm fine." He patted Merlin's hand and carefully folded the scrap of paper he'd been holding. "There have been women in the lower town," he spoke slowly as if absorbing the weight and meaning of his words as he said them "compelled to seek affairs with former lovers. Twelve in the fourteen weeks since Gwen had been gone."

"What!" Merlin stared at him at the older man, all thoughts of vision seeking pushed from his mind by this new information.

"Something is compelling women to have affairs." Gaius spoke slowly emphasizing each word. "She said at first she thought that somehow angry nobles had arranged the fiasco with Gwen and Lancelot. Since then she's changed her mind and thinks that there is a curse on the city because of all the subsequent affairs. She's not the only person that thinks so. Magistrate Grigor went so far as to consult with the druids."

Merlin stared down at him.

"An enchantment?" He dropped onto the bench beside Gaius. "An enchantment."

The lamplight continued to flicker and there was the who-o-o of an owl looing in the night. A curse compelling women to have affairs with former lovers? His eyes roved over the cluttered contents of the room.

"But how?" Merlin asked the question not quite believing, not wanting to believe what that meant about Gwen and about himself.

"What do you make of this?" Gaius held up the bracelet.

It was beautiful and silver gleaming bright in the firelight, flowers and trees flowing along its curved surface.

"It's a Bracelet what does this have to do with anything?"

"_She_ was wearing it." Gaius pointed to the bed reserved for his patients. A young blonde woman in a simple and worn homespun dress lay there unconscious.

Merlin studied the woman on the couch, she was quite young.

"That bracelet is certainly too expensive for her. She is one of the women and you think that bracelet compelled her?" He looked back at the bracelet.

Gaius nodded, "If Enid and the magistrate are right then this might be how the magic spread."

Merlin took a breath and reached out for the round of metal.

"Let me have it."

Gaius tucked the note that he'd been holding into his pocket and handed Merlin the bracelet.

The metal felt warm and alive under his fingertip and- His stomach turned as nausea washed over him. Merlin dropped it reflexively and the bracelet clattered to the floor.

"Merlin are you alright you look a little green?" Gaius's pale eyes were on him intently.

The nausea passed.

"I felt sick. I barely touched it and I felt sick. It's definitely enchanted." Merlin studied the bracelet without touching it again "It does looked familiar."

He steeled himself and picked it up. Prepared for the sick feeling Merlin ignored the wave of nausea and held on. The warlock slowed his breathing and after a few deep breaths the sickness began to pass. The trance state came easily, almost naturally now. He willed the bracelet to show him its secrets. An image came into his mind, an image of Gwen.

Not as he'd seen her last. Head bowed as she pulled her cart from Camelot, nor as he'd seen her in his vision by the stream. No it was years ago and she was weeping in Camelot's dungeons, Uther was planning to burn her for something he did.

_"Remember me, remember me."_

_ "Gwen how could I ever forget you?" He pulled the cell door open, entered and closed his arms around her. His only thought to give her comfort, reassurance that he would save her from the fires somehow. She cried into his shoulder tiny hands clutching his arms as if her very life depended on that grip. He pressed her closer, her small body warm and soft in his arms. She smelled sweetly of lavender and vanilla and he inhaled the delicious scent of her soft hair. Without realizing it he had moved one of his hands from the small of her back to tangle in those silky brown curls._

_ "Merlin?" She pulled back eyes damp._

_ "I- I'm sorry. I don't know what-" He looked away unable to meet her eyes fearing rejection, she always left him so confused and he was not a confident man. _

_ "Don't be sorry." She forced him to meet her eyes."Don't be sorry." The words came warm and breathy as she devoured him with her eyes and Merlin felt an answering tide of lust and old emotions. Her tiny hands held his face and brought his lips down to hers. She was so soft and warm. Her delicious curves pressed against him, tongue sweet, hot and slick in his mouth like damp velvet. His blood was flowing south and in spite of everything he knew Merlin suddenly wanted, needed her desperately. He pressed against her making his need known and she pulled away a teasing look in her eyes._

_ "Come to me Merlin."_

_ "God yes-"_

"-Merlin!"

Gwen disappeared as Gaius's voice crackled into his brain like a whip. How had he gotten into the door way?

"Merlin where are you going?" Gaius dashed the bracelet out of his hands. "You looked as if you were in some sort of trance."

Merlin tugged at the collar of his shirt in an attempt to fan himself.

"I was-"

"What did you see?"

"Um a woman, from my past," he spoke quickly "Someone I might have had romantic feelings for once." Merlin coughed and felt his eyes drawn back to the bracelet; _he wanted it and her-_

"-Merlin concentrate," Gaius shoved him toward a stool and covered the bracelet with a cloth. "You saw someone you might have had feelings for."

"Yes ahhh-" He could still feel her softness "yes once, but no longer? They just seemed to come out of nowhere."

"And where were you going?"

"To her- I was drawn to her."_Her eyes devoured him._

"So it's love charm?" Gaius questioned.

Merlin considered that.

"Nonono." He shook his head eyes on the bracelet dull blue fabric Gaius had covered the bracelet with he could still feel the softness of her body pressed against his. "That is carnal, definitely carnal." Merlin fanned himself and glanced at the young woman on the cot. "This was on Sarah Goode?"

"Yes.

"Gaius," he said forcing himself to concentrate "it drew me towards someone I once wanted and under its influence I would have gone to her no matter what. I want to take the bracelet from you and find her now. If Gwen was wearing this it would have sent her straight to the shade." His head was starting to hurt and he collapsed back into the chair. "She didn't do anything Gaius. Anything at all and now-"

"Merlin," Gaius sat down across from him one hand in his pocket. "You have to focus." The older man's voice gentle but firm, "Gwen is alive and she deserves to have her name cleared. We have to focus."

"Right, you're right." Merlin sat up and forced himself to concentrate. "He will need a demonstration."

"Arthur?"Gaius studied Sarah moment and the corner of his mouth quirked upward in the vaguest hint of a smile. "Let's put the bracelet back on Sarah."

"Back?" he felt himself balking.

"Yes Merlin. He mustn't have any doubts. One of us will have to be involved in the questioning and somehow make certain she takes it off so he can see a difference during the questioning. We'll still have to connect the bracelet back to Gwen-"

"No we won't." Merlin said with growing certainty. "Arthur will recognize it the moment he sees it."

"He will?" Gaius sounded genuinely puzzled.

"He was so upset by the idea that a man had given Gwen a costly piece of jewelry that he had a jeweler brought in to have a cuff bracelet made for her. He'll recognize it."

"Good that's one less thing to worry about."

Merlin slipped the bracelet back onto Sarah's wrist and then to be on the safe side used a little magic to lengthen her sleeves. They had to do this just so.

"Good thinking Merlin. He must see Sarah's focus on her lover first."

"Gaius, will it be enough do you think?"

"Enough to what?" The old man said "Convince Arthur? Merlin I don't think there is much more we can do."

Merlin frowned not at all certain he agreed with Gaius. This was how they had been doing things for the past six years. Doing things this way had led to Gwen being banished and possibly dead, Elyan departing, Lancelot spirit being tortured and his good name ruined and Arthur being turned against the woman he loved.

"I don't know Gaius," Merlin said softly.

"What?"

"Nothing," he shook his head. He already knew what Gaius would say if he told him he was thinking of telling Arthur about his magic.

* * *

><p>A page brought Enid to his suite, first. He could see her more clearly now, she wore a simple cotton dress, a few strands of brown hair escaped a linen cap and her wide hazel eyes darted everywhere.<p>

Arthur sat down at the head of the table and motioned for Enid take the chair to his right.

"Sire," she ducked her head quickly as she sat and Arthur could see that the confidence with which she had spoken earlier had abandoned her. "Where should I begin?"

"Start at the very beginning."

"Yes sire."

She started nervously her voice tremulous.

"At first it seemed one of those funny sorts of coincidences," her hands twisted the fabric of her skirt. "I mean Leolin catching Janet like that and Janet suddenly choosing Neirin. But then Mared coming onto Lynette after both of them had been married for fifteen years without a hint of impropriety between them and off they go without a second thought for their husbands…" Enid went on through her list of affairs her confidence growing as she told her tale. When she finished Arthur could not deny that there was truly something amiss in Camelot.

"Once is chance, twice is coincidence, third times conspiracy." He muttered.

"That's what I thought sire."

"Very well," he said "now tell me about Sarah."

She nodded and began again. Sarah had loved Rolfe since she was just thirteen, five years. Sarah it seemed had fallen in love with Rolfe only few months after he'd fallen in love with Guinevere. The pair had waited years to marry ensuring that Sarah would be safe when it came time for the bearing of children. The young woman had no duplicitous motive for marrying. And it was certainly strange that she would marry a man and betray him so carelessly all in one week. Yet and still stranger things had happened.

A knock came as she was finishing and the magistrate was announced. Magistrate Grigor arrived with two large, leather bound books under one arm.

"Magistrate Grigor how is Efan?" Arthur motioned for the man to have a seat.

A smile flickered across his face and he sat the two books on the table.

"She is well, complains that you haven't been by for dinner since your coronation. But she sends her love and chicken," Grigor handed the bundle of food to Arthur who smiled with delight.

"I was going to complain about the two of you not coming to the palace for dinner since my coronation but I think I'll just be satisfied with this."

"Good, because all those up in the air nobles and royals they give me indigestion." He winked and Arthur chuckled.

"I guess you make yourself sick too then," Arthur replied.

"Very clever,"Grigor chuckled.

"Let's get down to business, what do you have for us?"

"I have my logs."

"Good. Enid," Arthur turned his attention back to her "you have a sharp eye. I want you to stay and listen to the magistrate's report."

"Y-yes sire but my husband will wonder why I am so late coming home."

"I'll send a page over."

"Thank you sire."

He gave her a small smile of encouragement and she returned it.

The magistrate's log contained the full record of adultery cases for the past two years. In all that time there had only been ten penalties handed out for adultery. Of the ten, seven complaints had been lodged by the fathers of unmarried girls against married men. All had resulted in fines and time in the stocks. The remaining three had been the complaints of husband against wives. Again there had been times in the stocks and the lovers of the wives had paid a fine to their spouses. Only one case had resulted in a brawl.

Then in the last three months there had been twelve nearly identical cases of adultery. Thirteen if Guinevere was included. Arthur sighed it was more than unusual.

"Here's the thing sire most cases of adultery don't come to light and none so fast. People have affairs for months, years sometimes and often no one knows. Folks don't like to mess up their lives; don't like to hurt their spouses so they are careful. They get reckless after months or years of not getting caught." Grigor shook his head "These twelve were so reckless that they were caught almost as soon as they'd started, as if the purpose of the magic or curse were to get 'em caught."

"So you decided to consult with the druids."

Enid leaned in then.

"Yes."

Arthur sucked his tongue studying his friend. Merlin entered at that moment.

"Sire Sarah is awake."

"Thank you Merlin have a seat." Arthur ignored the vaguely surprised look on Merlin's face and returned his attention to Grigor "What did you learn from the druids?"

"I told them exactly what I told you, though there were only seven cases at the time. They could not say for certain, they had not spoken to any of the victims but they believed it some sort of strange magic. This spell it seems is particularly malicious. Love charms and potions and things are usually for the purpose of bringing two people together not pulling them apart. The magic is probably being spread through a personal item or token as it seems to affect only one person at a time. They suggested that it would look perfectly normal and would only seem malevolent to those sensitive to magic."

"Not so very much," Arthur said.

"But more than we knew before!" Enid said excitedly and then looked a bit contrite before settling back down.

"Did they have any idea of who might have done such a thing?"

The older man drummed his fingers on the table. "It _could_ have been random magic let loose but given the timing," Grigor paused and met his eyes "they thought it might be your sister with her aim being to halt your marriage."

For a long time both men were silent.

"I see," Arthur said after a time "Have you anything else to report?"

"That's it sire. Everything is written in my logs." The magistrate gestured toward the two leather bound volumes."

"Here?" Merlin reached out his hands and stopped himself "May I?"

"I don't mind." Grigor replied.

"Well go ahead Investigator Merlin."

Merlin rolled his eyes and began looking through the slimmer of the two logs. Arthur studied his swollen knuckles and looked at the magistrate.

"When Sarah arrives I'd like you to handle questioning her."

He nodded after a moment "As you wish sire."

Arthur sent a page to fetch Gaius and Sarah. The four of them did not have long to wait. Gaius arrived with Sarah in tow. The physician looked much the same as the always. Someone had dressed Sarah in a simple peasant smock with overlong sleeves hanging to her knuckles and her blonde hair was wild about her head. She stood straight and walked tall before pausing before the king.

"Sire," she curtsied. "Good sirs."

Arthur ground his teeth watching her but motioned for her to take the seat across from Grigor. The magistrate leaned back from the table studying her briefly with slightly narrowed eyes.

"How are you feeling Sarah?" The dark skinned man smiled slightly.

"Well, I suppose. I don't quite understand how I got here though. The physician said I was fine but I have a bit of a headache." She lifted one hand to the back of her head and shot a nervous glance at Arthur.

The magistrate nodded."You hit your head. Do you remember how?"

"No. I remember I was playing cards with a friend and then my husband came home later than usual, that was it."

"Are you friends with John the weaver?"

She nodded and smiled.

"Yes, very good friends. I've known him all my life, he's a good man."

Arthur rolled his eyes and reminded himself she didn't know that her husband had been killed by this _good _man.

"Was he the friend visiting your home?" Grigor asked.

"Yes," she shot a wary glance at the Arthur.

"What were the two of you doing?"The Magistrate cocked his head to one side.

"Is John in trouble? Is that why I am here?"

"Shouldn't you be asking that question about your husband?" Arthur asked unable to stop himself.

All eyes shot in his direction on those words.

"O-of course I'm concerned about my husband." She looked around as if she expected some word or answer from outside herself "Is Rolfe in any trouble?"

"No, no your husband is fine." The magistrate's tone was quite soothing.

"Good. You were asking about John." She smiled as if this new topic pleased her so.

Arthur felt that anger starting to swell again and reminded himself that he had asked Grigor to question her.

"So John was visiting." Grigor prompted.

"That's right we were playing cards." She lifted her eyes from her lap and spoke, eyes and tone full of bravado. "My husband was working late. John was keeping me company."

"Company," A heated mist swam before his eyes "is that what you call it?"

"We were doing nothing wrong," her chin came forward and her eyes flashed.

"More lies Madame!" He'd heard the phrase boiling mad-

-"I'm not lying!" She said hotly.

"You're not?" Arthur pounded his fist on the table and surged to his feet."So why then did I come to your home and find you naked and unconscious while your husband and lover fought one and other over your worthless person?"

"No!" Sarah denied the accusation and Grigor laid a restraining hand on his arm. Arthur shook it off.

"Yes!" Sarah shrank back from him and Arthur snatched from her seat shaking her, the control he'd exercised with Guinevere forgotten. "Don't lie to your king!"

"You're hurting me," she raised one arm, a barrier between her and the king.

"What's this?" Arthur released his grip on her shoulders and lifted her arm to better study the silver bracelet she was wearing. "Where did you get this?"

"It's mine!" Sarah sobbed face red.

"Lies again!" he wrenched her arm and snatched it from her wrist. "Tell me the truth."

"I-I found it."

"Where?"

"In the street discarded."

Arthur studied the bracelet and looked at Sarah, who'd collapsed weeping on the floor. Enid had moved to crouch at her side, rubbing the young woman's back.

He'd seen this on Gwen shortly after proposing to her. It was expensive and he'd wondered immediately who'd given it to her. His mind had created a very sweet fantasy of draping her in Pendragon jewels. Guinevere had this and now Sarah. He sat it down on the table wondering suddenly if this was the token the druids had spoken of.

"Come on. Let's get you back in your seat." Enid said softly. Sarah nodded and let the other woman help her up.

"Arthur," he let Grigor pull him to the far side of the room, away from the table and Sarah and Gaius and Merlin to the far side of the room."Merlin," Grigor called out to the younger man "can you please fetch us some wine from the kitchens? I think we could all do with a drink."

"Of course," Merlin replied, if Grigor noticed the annoyance in the manservant's voice he didn't comment on it and neither did Arthur.

"Are you unwell sire?"

"I-" he started to lie but suddenly couldn't force the words past his lips not in the face of Grigor's obvious concern, "no I'm not."

The other man paused and took a long deep breath.

"Okay," Grigor clasped his forearms and gave them a reassuring squeeze. "Can you hold it together for just a while longer? I'm with you, Merlin is with you, Gaius is with you. We're almost at the heart of the matter."

"But if Guinevere-"

"-I know but we need to finish this first. One thing at a time."

"You're right," Arthur took a deep breath in an effort to pull himself together. This was important, his people needed him and that included Guinevere.

Merlin returned quicker than expected with the wine and poured glasses for everyone.

"You have some too," Arthur said dully resuming his seat.

For a long time the only sound heard was the sipping and gulping of watered wine. Every now and again everyone shot glances at the bracelet. Everyone save Sarah. Sarah, sniffled and whimpered from time-to-time, ignoring her goblet in spite of Enid's attempts to get her to drink.

"Is it possible that I may be excused?" Sarah said at last. "I need to talk to my husband."

"Now you're worried about your husband?" Arthur questioned.

"Yes." She sniffed again "please sire I need to go to him."

"And why would he want _you_?" Arthur asked still not quite convinced.

"You're right of course, but-" she whimpered and wiped at her eyes. "Oh god! Please let me go to him. He saw-" she began crying again a miserable broken sound.

"What did he see Sarah?" the Magistrate asked patiently.

"I can't say it."

"You weren't worried about your husband a moment ago."Arthur said quietly.

She sniffed "You're right I wasn't. I've been so confused."

"Confused how?" The magistrate's tone was urgent.

"Just tell them everything Sarah," Enid said spoke to the girl in soothing tones.

"I-I just before my wedding- for years all I wanted was to marry Rolfe but we were too young. My parents made us wait, five just like you and her" she took a deep breath. "John is very handsome but Rolfe is the only man I've ever loved, ever wanted. Just before we were to be married all there were all these feelings. I don't know where they came from. They were overwhelming."

_"All these feelings, they were overwhelming-" _The same words Guinevere had used.

She scrunched up her face and ran her hands through her hair before continuing. Arthur considered what Grigor had just told him. All the women described the situation the same.

"Suddenly I was drawn to John. I tried to ignore it. I love Rolfe so much. I thought the confusion in my mind, the confusion in my heart would go away but-" she shuddered and hugged herself. "It didn't. It got worse. I was saying and doing things I'd never say, never do- I can't believe- Please can I go see my husband?" She looked at them in an entreaty and Arthur felt a wave of guilt flood through him.

"Soon Sarah soon," Grigor coaxed her along "just answer a few more questions. This is more important than you can imagine."

She nodded.

"When did you get this?" Grigor indicate the bracelet.

"I found it a few days before the wedding. I knew it belonged to some lady, someone important. I picked it up thinking to find the owner but I started to think how nice it might be to have something beautiful like this for my wedding. I put it on just before my wedding began."

Everyone round the table drew in a breath and Sarah eyed them all in confusion.

"What? What is going on?"

Arthur saw sympathy in Enid's face.

"Sarah will you do one more thing for us?" The magistrate asked "Can you put this on now?"

"I" she frowned and shook her head "-I don't want to."

"It's okay," Arthur said it softly feeling guilt at how he'd behaved only moments earlier. "Just for a few minutes more and then you may go."

She took a breath and reached out with trembling hands "Alright."

She slipped the bracelet back on. A sly look crept back into her features.

"Sarah?" The magistrate prompted her, "you said you were drawn to John even though you loved Rolfe?"

"John is," she paused "John is irresistible who wouldn't want him? I think about him all the time. I can't stop thinking about him."

"But not your husband?" Grigor asked.

She looked around much as she had earlier as if looking for the right answer.

"Well I do love my husband but I can't stop thinking of John."

Arthur stared at her; this was what Morgana had turned Guinevere into.

"Very well, Grigor said "why don't you give the bracelet back and then you can go see whomever you like?"

"As you wish," She couldn't keep the smile from her face as she slipped the thing from her wrist. Everyone watched and waited as regret, misery and horror crept back into her face.

"Sarah," Grigor's tone was soothing "do you still want to see John?"

"John? No! I need to see my husband." Horror filled her expression "Oh god, I don't know who I am anymore." She looked directly at him then. "I love Rolfe so much. I used to pray for Rolfe and I every day. And when your story sire, yours and Guinevere's came out, I thought all of us must be so blessed, so lucky. I used to laugh and liken us all the time. We even planned our wedding day to match yours." She paused shaking her head for a moment "I didn't understand how she could do it. If she loved you as much as I loved Rolfe and if you looked at her with half as much love as Rolfe looked at me- How could she possibly do it? I told myself I would never be like her, but _I am_ just like her. I'm so sorry." Her head collapsed to the table in storm of tears.

"No Sarah," Arthur said softly after a few minutes passed "the apology is owed to you and Guinevere."

She raised her head then and Arthur felt his heartbreaking at the confusion in her face.

"What? Why? What's happening to me?" Her voice trembled with fear.

"You've been enchanted." Grigor explained.

She frowned and stared.

"Enchanted but how?"

"This bracelet that you found Sarah it spread the magic that enchanted you," Merlin said.

"This? But I don't- Why would someone enchant me?"

"It wasn't meant for you Sarah." Grigor replied.

"Whu-" Her lower lip quivered and her eyes grew wide.

Arthur pushed to his feet and walked away from the table. Guinevere had been enchanted. He'd seen the bracelet on her himself.

The room felt hot and tight suddenly. The voices of Sarah and the magistrate faded.

_"I love you .You mean everything to me." "All I've ever wanted is to be your queen. I still want to be your queen." _ Why hadn't he seen? Why hadn't he heard-

_"-and now you've killed my sister."_

He needed air. Arthur opened one of the larger windows. The summer night had grown cool and he gasped in lung fulls of night air. The starry sky had taken on the cool grey of early morn the sun would be rising soon. Again his world would be turned upside down in less than twelve hours.

Sarah shrieked, a pathetic, miserable sound that twisted his heart and Arthur guessed they were finally telling her about her husband. He thought of Guinevere out there, somewhere perhaps dead. He looked at Sarah crying on Enid's shoulder, she and her husband both victims. He and Guinevere robbed of each other; Guinevere robbed of her good name.

"I'm so sorry Guinevere; by all that's holy I am so sorry."

_"Am I to be your husband or your king?"_ He had failed her as both.

"Arthur." He heard Merlin's footfalls but did not turn."I won't ask how you're feeling."

"Like horse dung."

There was a pause, "Me too."

"You?" Now he turned to look askance at the younger man.

"I count Gwen amongst my friends as well."

"Of course you do Merlin but you didn't send her out there, away from her home, from her family. You weren't the one that didn't see all the ways it didn't make sense. _You," _he faced Merlin now "you tried to convince me to do something different but as always I let my uncle overrule my better judgment." Arthur fell silent.

"Overrule?"

"Yes. He was being nice, comforting not like my father would have been but insisting she be punished. When I told him I thought she was enchanted his entire demeanor changed. He told me I was being childish, grasping at straws. I had to respond robustly, I couldn't go easy on her because I loved her, reminded me that this was part of the inevitable challenge of being king."

He drew in a breath. The familiar whirling tide of despair and anger that seemed to always be with him surged and swelled drawing close.

"I was like a god damned puppet and now Guinevere is out there."

"You thought she might have been enchanted all those months ago?" Merlin asked and he sounded strangely bewildered.

Both men fell silent.

"Merlin what's the likelihood that Lancelot would just arrive in Camelot just as Gwen and I had agreed to marry just in time for her to find or receive that thing?" Arthur frowned "He had to be a part of it somehow."

"It would be an impossible coincidence."

"Exactly Merlin. I've been having this dream. I'm in the arena but only my mother and father are there. My mother looks at my father and says _"He's not ready."_ My father replies _"But they've tricked him"._ That's when I realize I am not wearing armor just trousers and sandals. I see my opponent then Lancelot. We wrestle like Greeks and he always gets me into a chokehold. I can't get my breath, everything blurs and that's when he starts to speak."

_"I thought you were smarter than this. I stepped aside for you. I gave up my life for you. I thought you were smarter than this."_

He drew a breath and admitted one simple fact.

"What we saw that night in the council room was no more Lancelot than it was Guinevere. Morgana couldn't have raised him from the dead there was no body? Perhaps it was someone wearing Lancelot guise. I don't know how she might have done it but I no longer believe it. That was a show made for us to see." The anger swelled again "That bitch when I see her again there will be no mercy, not tie of blood will protect her. Morgana's life forfeit. I swear it."

He didn't see Merlin take an involuntary step backwards.

"Sire," Grigor addressed him from a safe distance hands resting lightly on his hips expression thoughtful. "If there isn't anything more needed from Sarah I thought we might send for her family and Rolfe's. I can tell his parents what's happened. There's also John to consider. I don't imagine he needs a trial."

"He can have a trial; he can have his trial by ordeal." Arthur felt a bit of satisfaction at the bloodthirsty thought.

"I would like to raise the possibility that the men may also have been compelled."

He had not considered this.

"How would we tell such a thing?"

Arthur's eyes roamed the room and landed on Gaius. Sarah had grown quiet and the older man had moved the young woman from her seat at the table to a narrow bench and draped one of Arthur's linens about her shoulders.

"Gaius," Arthur strode toward the physician leaving Merlin and Grigor to follow. "Is it possible that the men were also affected by the bracelet?"

The older man leaned forward palms resting on his knees.

"It's difficult to say sire. That would be awfully powerful magic and I don't believe it's that powerful. We should question John but I don't know that his testimony alone would be enough to base a decision on."

"Excuse sire if I may?" Enid spoke up clearly she had an idea of some sort.

"Go ahead."

She addressed the Magistrate "You said you took statements from the women did you also take statements from their lovers?"

"Yes, yes I did." A smile lit the elder man's dark face "You're thinking they might have some common language that betrays enchantment as well."

Enid nodded grinning back at him.

"I don't remember any such similarity but it's worth a look." Grigor opened his log and lowered his long frame into one of the chairs "I write down all the salient points. Enid?" He extended several sheets toward her.

She shook her head negative and he extended them toward Merlin and Arthur. Arthur read what the magistrate gave him and then passed them to the others for further review.

There was a similarity but not of the sort that suggest compulsion.

_"Did you see that? No way I was gonna turn that down."_

_"My wife's gotten old and shrewish and I've always wanted to lay with Anne."_

_"Sweet thing was all over me. What else was I gonna do? What would you have done?"_

"Did none of them refuse?" Merlin declared in disgust.

"If they did there'd be no affair, no statement." The magistrate shrugged.

"These don't read like statements of men under enchantment, just men with no honor." Arthur said at last and there were nods all around. Silence descended for a while "Still if none of them resisted and I would hope at least one of them would, that in and of itself seems suspicious."

Everyone was silent for a while.

"We'll question the women again." Grigor said, "Find out how they came to be in possession of the bracelet. If they got it from someone not in the logs then we talk to them find out if they were any near affairs. That should answer whether or no the men were enchanted."

"Yes, I think it would."

Enid yawned loud and hard.

"Sorry," she said.

"We've kept you away from your family for far too long I think Madame."

"Oh I don't mind sire. I'm glad I was able to help."

"You were more than helpful Enid. You were instrumental," Arthur said realizing that Enid had had it right from the beginning, Morgana certainly qualified as angry noble.

She smiled "I don't know, sire I-" her hazel eyes went wide at something over his shoulder. "Sarah?"

Arthur turned his head and felt his own eyes grow wide. While they'd all been distracted trying to work out the last few details of the situation Sarah had slipped away from Gaius and now stood in the frame of one of his windows.

"Don't!" Arthur was on his feet and running toward her in the winking of an eye the others only a breath behind. But she was stepping into thin air and meeting her fate long before they reached her.

* * *

><p>For a long moment Arthur stared down at her body. She was broken it seemed in a hundred different places. Limbs bent at strange unnatural angles, eyes sightless, it looked so painful. He sighed and crouched beside her. He wanted to speak but the heaviness of his heart would not let him part his lips. Arthur ignored the crowd gathering in the courtyard and touched gentle fingertips to her lids. He shut her eyes and covered her face with the rough white canvass.<p>

"Sarah," he muttered a quick prayer and covered her with the canvass. The Reapers would be here for her body very soon. Arthur thought briefly of their families hers, Rolfe's, John's…He suddenly didn't want John's blood. This situation would not have existed were it not for Morgana and his own failure in halting this at its very beginning.

But John had been under no enchantment. He'd acted of his own will both when he committed adultery with Sarah and again when he picked up that knife. Arthur considered the facts. He would hand John over to Grigor and let the manor court decide John's fate the crimes were under his jurisdiction after all.

Gaius would test the bracelet and find it magical. He have to address would address the men and women of his city encourage then to make peace with one and other and mend their marriages. There would be pardons issued and his efforts to find Guinevere would be redoubled. Arthur lifted her ring from the place where it now resided on a silver chain above his heart. He looked toward heavens and placed a gentle kiss on the silver band. He spared a glance for the white canvas covering Sarah and sighed.

_Where ever you are Guinevere you mustn't give up, please don't ever give up. No matter what happens you must live._

* * *

><p><strong><em>I hope you all enjoyed this update. This chapter was a total beast, doing the edits was like trying to get a harness on a bear. Its quite long but splitting it would have made it weaker I think. Anyway the mystery of the bracelet has finally been solved and now Arthur has to begin his search for Guinevere. Meanwhile Guinevere has decision to make about her future,what type of life she wants to live and what type of woman she wants to become.<br>_**

**_This chapter has been the most difficult please let me know what you think about all of it.  
><em>**

**_Shout-out to fdarcy who has been waiting very patiently for the bracelet reveal. I hope it lived up to your expectations.:)  
><em>**


	14. The Exile, Chapter: Of Families, Friends

_**I've decided to keep it short this week, though this chapter lays the ground work for some bigger things to come.**_

_**Guinevere's story thus far: Gwen has found a new home in Wyeledon, new friends and a freedom she has never had but Camelot continues to haunt her.  
><strong>_

_**Characters: Guinevere and Ylsa**_

* * *

><p><strong>The Exile,<strong>

**-Part II, Chapter XIII-**

**Of Friends, Families and Magic**

* * *

><p>"Come on slow poke."<p>

Ylsa rose and handed her a basket as she reached the bottom of the stairs. Arm-n-arm the two women left the town house, herb baskets bouncing on their hips. Their excursion was to collect the herbs that Ylsa needed for her patients as well something to help Gwen sleep.

While there were few people in the streets, Wyeledon did not appear totally empty of human life as Camelot would at this hour. The city guard was moving about, villagers from outlying villages were lining up at the gates and trickling in to buy or sell at the market and the fisher folk were out as well.

The fisher folk of Wyeledon, mostly men but women also headed toward the shore in group of three, four and five. It seemed they were of all backgrounds, in every hue, calling to each in friendly and familiar words as they walked towards, opposite the direction of Ylsa and Guinevere. Gwen heard every language amongst them. Latin of course, but also Galician, French, Welsh, Chinese even Arabic and others she didn't know.

They were allowed to fish thrice weekly and in boats large and small boats set sail in the wee hours of the morn to return with nets filled with all manner of fish, squid, mussels and shellfish. Their catch was brought to the market by midday to appear on supper tables or be smoked and dried. The Senate was very careful about the number of fishing licenses given out and regulated the length of every fishing season and day, penalties for fisherman operating outside of those times could be high. An individual fishing for their table could do so whenever they liked.

The two women exited the city through the western gate as the sun was still climbing above the horizon. They wanted to be finished before the heat of noon. Luisa had packed them a breakfast that they would eat a little later.

"You remember the name of the herbs I need?" Ylsa asked as they walked.

"Yes, water mint, red raspberry, motherwort, blessed thistle and nettle."

"Good can you describe them and where they are most likely to be found?"

For a moment Guinevere studied her friend's expression in the dim morning light. Gaius had taken to quizzing her like this but she hadn't expected Ylsa to do so.

"Well come on then." Ylsa said a hint of amusement in her voice "This is a test."

Guinevere rolled her eyes and decided to play along, thinking back to her time spent studying while she tended Uther. She took the easy ones first. Water mint and red raspberry, their properties were given away by their names and easy to identify- Water mint in particular, due to its pungent minty smell.

"So you've got the easy ones." Ylsa smiled slightly in the pink and orange dawn light. "What about the nettle?"

Gwen thought a moment recalling the shape and size of the leaves as well as its beneficial properties.

"Besides having the effect of reducing physical discomfort, easing muscle cramps and spasms, it can be eaten for its nutritive effects and too increase the richness of milk. As well as serve as a douche to halt hemorrhaging after delivery." She recited at last.

"Very good. Do you remember how to gather it?"

"Wear gloves for the sting and snap below the third bract."

"Excellent." Ylsa patted her hand. They'd reached the woods by now and began working. Ylsa quizzed her as they worked. They briefly discussed the herbs that Gwen had decided upon for her sleep troubles, lavender, hops, mullein and vervain to help her sleep.

By the time the sun was well up and the morning advanced, they'd found everything but the Motherwort. When their stomachs started to growl, Ylsa decided it was time for a break and the two women sat down for breakfast.

Luisa had packed them a meal of flaky, herbed smoked fish, rye bread, watercress and stew pears. Baskets beside them, the two women made themselves comfortable. Gwen set on the soft moss covered earth and leaned her back against a fallen tree giving life to moss, new plants and hungry mushrooms feasting. Ylsa sat on that same tree a pleased expression on her face.

The forest around was the rich living green of summer. The trees were thick and full with leaves and slowly ripen fruit. Shrubs and bushes were heavy with flowers and berries, feeding insects and sheltering birds. Little creatures like rabbits, squirrels, and birds kept away from the two women but they saw a family of deer downstream and a dover of ducks moved along the water feeding and quacking to each other.

For a time the two women watched the animals of the forest eating in silence. Gwen savoring the warm full flavor of smoked fish. In little over a month in Wyeledon she had eaten more different types of fish and seafood than Camelot saw in a year.

"Other than Wyeledon have you traveled much?" Ylsa asked as they were finishing their breakfast.

"No," Gwen thought briefly of the times she'd been kidnapped and decided they didn't count. "Not really. What about you?"

"I've been to Vienna and all over the western part of the continent."

She considered that for a moment. Ylsa spoke with no accent she could place. Sometimes she sounded French, other times she sounded like a Gaul and still other times of Galicia but mostly she seemed to have no particular accent at all.

"Where is your family from?"

"Chateau de Beaune."

"So you are French?"

"Yes. I suppose but I haven't lived there in a long time." Her velvety brown face was thoughtful for a while. "My family served the first Charlemagne and now the Blois Duchy. They are up to their necks in politics."

"Oh. Do you have lots of family?"

"Yes," she looked at her with a small smile "lots of uncles, aunts and cousins. There is never an empty room or quiet moment in the Chateau."

"Don't you miss them?"

"Not really. I mean, I love them but I do not belong there. My family is concerned with the accumulation of power and wealth. Someone like me has no place there."

"Oh." Gwen very said softly thinking about how often she was alone, "It must be hard for you."

"Not so much. I have a twin brother that I am close to and my Aunt Marie, who is also a midwife, a few cousins that are physicians in different households. We're our own little clan within the clan."

"Where is your brother? What is his name?"

"His name is Lucian. He is with the family. Unlike myself, he lives to scheme we still manage to see one and other from time to time."

"It seems sad that you should have all this family and yet you are separated from them."

"We would not be happy together." Both women were silent for a while "What about your family?"

"There are not so many of us. Before my mother died we were very happy. Even after, Elliot my brother Elyan's twin, died from meazlis outbreak we when they were just three we managed to be happy. We suffered but we were together. My mother took ill when I was about six years of age, we never really understood what was wrong. She just sickened and died." Gwen thought briefly on how her father had sent she and Elyan to live with their Aunt Mary and Uncle John during those last few months. "For a long time it was just me, my father and my brother Elyan. My mother's family is scattered over the countryside but my father was a blacksmith. There is little work for a blacksmith in the country."

"No. I suppose not. Are you close to them, your father and brother I mean?"

Gwen thought about the way Elyan had looked at her on that last morning in Camelot, thought about all the ways she had disappointed him.

"Father and I were very close until the day he died. That was some years ago."

"I'm sorry about your mother and father," Ylsa squeezed her arm gently.

"It's been some years now. I'm used to it." Gwen said. Both women fell silent watching the little stream flow along listening to the birdsong.

"What about your brother Elyan?"

Gwen took a breath "When he was young, we were very different, very close. We played together as all children do and confided in one and other. Everything changed though when Padrig was accused of sorcery." Gwen drew her knees up to her chest. "Padrig was his best friend and truly they were more than that, more like brothers. I think Padrig filled the hole in his life when Elliot died. They were just fourteen when Padrig was burnt at the stake." She paused and licked her lips before continuing. "Elyan believed and probably rightly so that Padrig was innocent. He lost faith in everyone and everything after that."

"How horrible!" Ylsa hugged herself and rubbed her arms as if to ward off a chill. "But why should that divide the three of you?"

Gwen sighed, surprised that she suddenly wanted to talk about this.

"At the time I was handmaid to the king's ward Morgana," Gwen looked out over the stream "Elyan felt that Morgana might convince the king that Padrig was not guilty. He wanted me to talk to her ask for her help."

"Did you?"

"No," she paused "I didn't," she had never actually told anyone this story. "Our father forbid it. He said it was already suspicious enough that Elyan was such a close friend to someone accused of sorcery. We did not need to draw the king's eye to us."

"Would it have? Helped _or_ hurt I mean?"

"Truthfully, I don't know. Sometimes Morgana could sway him and sometimes she could not." Gwen shook her head, still disappointed in her sixteen year-old self. "I was afraid though and I remembered how broken my father was after our mother died. I risk couldn't bringing that on him again. Elyan didn't see it that way though. He ran away a few days later. There has been no closeness between us since that time. Instead a gulf has grown and we seem to be filling it with sharp edged disappointment." Gwen swallowed feeling as if she might cry for just a moment.

She felt Ylsa's hand run soothingly up and down her arm.

"Jen, look at me.

"What?" She turned heard, met her friend's eyes.

"Your father wanted to protect his family. You did you duty as good daughter. It's not your fault. It's the fault of a king who burned children at the stake and any that tried to defend them."

"Yeah," Gwen said not at all convinced.

The two women fell silent. Gwen let her eyes wander downstream, two of the ducks were squawking now fighting over a worm or some such. A family of raccoons crossed their path; babies bobbing along behind their mother, fluffy tails billowing behind them.

"Just a moment, you were handmaiden to Morgana? _The_ Lady Morgana? T_he witch!?"_

Gwen rolled her eyes.

"No wonder you don't want to serve in another house but there are plenty of sane normal families out there."

"I'm certain."

"Maybe," Ylsa said slowly "Morgana is your enemy?"

"What!?" Gwen turned on her friend with a sharp-eyed stare, incredulous at the thought.

"Well, Matilde said "your enemy's victory shall be _HER_ bane." Morgana is a _her_ and everyone knows how she overthrew her father and such."

"Oh yes, that must be it because I only know one woman in all the wide world."

"Of course not Gwen but-"

"No, I don't have any enemies and if I did they certainly would not be Morgana. I'm a nothing to her, a no one, a servant." Guinevere shook her head. "Once she might have called me a friend but if I ever harbored any illusions that I was anything more than a servant to her it was soon made plain that that was not so." Gwen said thinking of the way her relationship Morgana had changed in that last year, the way Morgana who seemed to have once cared a great deal for her thought of her less and less. "I'm not important enough to be enemy to Morgana. And no one has done anything to me, had any victory over me." Gwen got to her feet and picked up her basket. "Are we about done?"

Without waiting for an answer Guinevere turned to start back toward the city.

"Jen just a second, Matilde's fortunes are-" Ylsa shrieked and Gwen turned to see that a bandit had grabbed the other woman round the waist and was pressing a very sharp looking blade against her throat.

"I want your money!"

"Of course," she sat the basket down and slipped the purse from her belt.

"Open it."

"Here now release her," Gwen did as the man said and dumped the contents into her palm, ten coppers.

"That's all you got?"

"Sorry," Gwen couldn't keep a hint of exasperation out of her town "we're out picking herbs for goodness's sake. What did you expect treasure? You've got our purses; now please just let us go." He looked them over for a moment and Gwen glanced at Ylsa trying to see how the other woman was holding up.

Strangely she saw no sign of fear in Ylsa's face. The midwife's eyes had been trained on the bandit since this whole thing had begun. She looked, Gwen thought, as if she were trying to concentrate on something.

"Very well take off you dress."

Gwen snapped her attention back to the bandit.

"What!"

"I'm sure it will fetch a good price."

"No! You have our money let us go." Guinevere insisted

"Do it or I'll cut your friend." He pressed the blade against Ylsa's throat and Gwen saw the thinnest line of red. Ylsa however didn't seem to notice, didn't even make a sound. Her big dark eyes shut for the briefest second.

"You don't look so good," Ylsa said it to the bandit her voice lilting almost sing-song as it sometimes was.

"What?" He looked down at her.

"You look a little green actually."

Was that fear creeping into the bandit's expression?

"Shut-up!"

Gwen hadn't noticed before but he did look just a bit green.

"I'm a healer. If you're ill, I might be able to help you. Is your stomach bothering you?"

He swallowed and Gwen watched them feeling almost mesmerized by what she was witnessing.

"Perhaps you're feeling a bit dizzy." He stared down at her and Gwen could see the bandits grip go slack. Ylsa slipped out of his hold and a moment later the bandit collapsed. Gwen was at her friend's side immediately.

"I'm fine." Her words were soft and breathless. "Go tie him up so we can tell the guard." The other women sunk into sitting position.

"Are you certain you're all right?"

"I'm fine. The merchants are very serious about keeping these woods free of bandits and highwaymen; there is even a reward, so go and tie him up so we can collect it."

The bandit did look sickly and Gwen found his skin hot to the touch. Fevers usually didn't come on so quickly.

The man groaned and looked her. "Your friend said she would help me."

"Oh now that means something to you," Gwen said and tied his belt extra hard round his wrist.

She bound his feet with a strip of cloth she cut from his tunic. The she went back to Ylsa, who was sitting with her head between her knees.

"Now you're sick!"

"I'm fine," She looked up bleary eyed "just tired from the heat and the excitement."

"Of course."

"Come let's get back to town."

Guinevere helped Ylsa to her feet and grabbing their baskets the two women hurried back. By the time they reached the city gates Ylsa seemed better and Gwen began to relax. They told the guard on duty and he took them to his captain. The captain smiled at their news and sent Gwen with another guard to collect the bandit. Strangely enough when they found him his fever seemed to have lessened and he no longer looked so green.

"I thought you said he was ill?"

"He seemed ill," Gwen shrugged and remembered the way Ylsa had been looking at him, "I suppose we were confused."

"No! They're witches. The other one, the dark one made me sick!" The guard looked from the bandit to her.

"You hold your tongue." Gwen glared down at him. "You tried to rob and rape us. You threatened my friend at knife point and because we were lucky enough that you had a fainting spell she is a witch? Thank god you got sick."

The guardsmen nodded "Sides," he said "it's not like witchery is illegal, preying on our god citizens." The guardsmen forced him to his feet. "Even if she is serves you right."

"But they-"

"Shut it!" The guardsmen clouted the bandit on the head. "You're lucky that's all she did. If you'd of tried to take my dress I'd have done far more than make you sick, you piece of filth." He added the last in a grumble and the bandit fell.

They started back to the city.

"Attacking young women out to gather herbs for medicine people these days," the guardsmen shook his head "You ladies take me along next time and you won't have to worry about this kind of trouble." He gave her a small smile and Gwen realized he was trying to flirt with her.

"Thank you."

"I mean it. Next time you go out for herbs come an' see me first."

"Okay," she said humoring him.

They chatted amicably enough all the way back to the guardhouse. He recognized her accent as being from Camelot and complimented her dress. He told her a bit about his plan to get himself promoted to squad leader and then captain mentioning how well it paid. Guinevere listened politely feeling just a tad relieved when they returned to the guardhouse and he had to leave her to do his job.

Another guard took her to an office where she signed for the reward with their captain who then directed her to Ylsa.

She found the other woman munching on a plate of shrimp and cabbage swimming in butter and parsley, a bandage on her neck.

"You just ate." Guinevere remarked and Ylsa shrugged.

"I was still a bit hungry."

Gwen eyed the tiny woman and shook her head. "Feeling better?"

"Very much, thank you. The cut is just a scratch but I figured better safe than sorry." The midwife wiped her hands on a cloth napkin. "And one of these lovely guards was kind enough to get me this delicious lunch." Ylsa fluttered her eyelashes and Gwen laughed.

"I'll wager he was."

"Did they give you the reward?"Ylsa asked.

"Ten silver pieces."

"Wonderful, shall we split it?"

Gwen studied her friend a moment before nodding.

She should save her half of the money but remembering all of those beautiful, inexpensive bolts of fabric in the market was giving her other ideas.

"The shrimp are delicious have one," Ylsa motioned toward her plate and Gwen took a shrimp with a bit of reluctance. To think she had been worried about the weight she'd lost on the road.

Gwen waited until Ylsa finished her lunch and then arm-n-arm started back to the townhouse.

The streets were now crowded with people going about their business under the noon day sun. They passed the same shops, inns and churches that Gwen had seen on her first day in Wyeledon. The sea salt tang was strong in the air. The two women made their way through the crowded streets walking arm-n-arm as much for friendliness as for protection. They were both of them short enough to be easily overlooked.

"What are you going to do with you half of the reward money? I know! You're gonna be smart and responsible and save it right?" Ylsa teased.

Guinevere rolled her eyes "Perhaps." She could not deny that was what she had been thinking.

"I know what you truly want to do is go down to the market and spend it on bolts of fabric and ribbon."

Ylsa grinned and Gwen wanted to return it but she couldn't.

_-"She's a witch!"-_

She wanted to dismiss the bandit's words as anger but she couldn't dismiss the way Ylsa had looked at him, the way he'd fallen sick even as she said it. She drew in a breath. What if Ylsa _was_ a witch?

"Are you unwell Jen?"

"Hmm?"

"You looked ashen for a just a moment."

"I-I-" She thought about all the ways she'd seen magic hurt someone, hurt people she cared about over and over again.

"It doesn't seem strange to you at all?"

"What?" Ylsa looked at her expression perplexed.

"The bandit, the way he fell sick. Doesn't it seem strange to you?" Gwen explained.

"Strange?" Ylsa shook her head; expression bemused "No, it seems lucky, like a blessing."

They turned the corner and the wind came off the sea blowing hard, a salty tang in the air.

"I suppose. It just seemed..."Gwen shook her head.

"He's a bandit Jen, he lives in the woods. He probably eats bad food all the time." Ylsa waved a dismissing hand.

"That makes sense, but" Gwen recalled the frightening intensity with which Ylsa had stared at him. As if her gaze alone could hurt him. "The way you were looking him, concentrating. Why were you staring at him like that?"

"I was watching the person holding a knife at my throat." Ylsa said it as if no other explanation were required.

"But you didn't seem to be worried about the knife at all." Gwen pulled her arm from Ylsa's. "You looked as if you were concentrating, trying to- I don't… trying to do something-"Gwen said unable to bring herself to give voice to the things she was thinking.

"Yes, I was concentrating on determining a way to keep us from being raped and killed. He wanted your dress for goodness sake!"

Gwen rolled her eyes "All right but when we came back to collect him, he wasn't ill at all! No natural sickness comes and goes that way. He fell sick as you said it, as if you made him sick."

"Don't be ridiculous Jen. A man trying to hurt us fell sick. He's a bandit for goodness's sake, he lives in the woods. He probably ate bad food and that is what made him fall it." she started walking again "We should buy some ribbon and perhaps cologne." Ylsa called over her shoulder.

"Ylsa that's not what happened?" Gwen insisted growing frustrated.

"Of course it is."

For a moment Gwen considered dropping the subject all together. After all, they had been neither robbed nor hurt, but "magic is evil, magic corrupts". She thought about Morgana, the way the other woman had changed. She thought of Morgana using her power against them and felt her stomach twist with tension and fear. Gwen started walking and caught up to the other woman.

"You made him sick," she accused. If she was living with a magic user she needed to know.

"And how would I do something like that?" Ylsa crossed her arms; dark eyes wide and waiting.

Gwen swallowed not wanting to speak but remembering how she erred with Morgana, ignored the signs.

"With magic," the words came out in a harsh whisper.

"I see, with magic." Ylsa's jaw tightened and her hands balled into fist. "Would it be wrong if I had? This isn't Camelot. Magic is not illegal here."

"I know that!" Gwen shot back.

"That bothers you though, doesn't it?" Ylsa said, a look of realization spreading over her face.

"Perhaps a little," Gwen admitted.

"Because you think it should be illegal." Ylsa's eyes narrowed "Perhaps people should be being burnt at the stake?"

"No, no! The purge was terrible, but…" Gwen fell silent suddenly uncertain.

"But if magic is illegal and people defy the law you have to do something?" Ylsa probed.

"Well, yes, of course."

"Of course," for the briefest moment Ylsa looked sad but then her face grew hard and relentless. "Do you hate magic users Jen?"

"No. I don't hate anybody."

"Don't you. There are so many places where magic users are hunted, persecuted, barely tolerated and you would have Wyeledon as one of those places."

This was ridiculous. Magic was evil, corrupting and dangerous. Yes, the purge was terrible but she had seen no good come of magic.

"What do people use magic for expect to take power over others? Magic corrupts all good. Of course it's banned and people who violate such a ban must also be evil."

"Ohh," Ylsa drew back "sounds like hatred to me," there was a hint of bitterness in her tone.

"I told you, I don't hate anybody," Guinevere rolled her eyes.

Ylsa's eyes narrowed, "People like you are so blinded to the truth they don't know what they feel half the damned time."

"People like me?" Gwen stared askance.

"Yes, people like you!" Ylsa continued "You think you know everything about everything. I know about your precious Camelot, I know how it was attacked time and again by magic users. How Morgana overthrew her father out of fear." Ylsa's eyes narrowed "I bet you hate Morgana."

"Hate is not what I feel for that woman, in spite of what she has done to my home."

"Truly?" Ylsa's tone was mocking now. "You don't hate anyone? But all those other magic users, those tortured people trying to overthrow an oppressive rule that persecuted them, you seemed to hate them?"

Gwen thought for a moment did she hate those people?

"No, I feel nothing for them," she said firmly. "I don't hate anybody. Hate is not a part of any motive that I have regarding magic. Magic using people have attacked my home time and time again. They are dangerous and that is why magic is banned."

Ylsa looked down for a moment. "You say you don't hate anybody not even these magic users that attacked your home, your family and your friends." Ylsa lifted her head and met her eyes "What of the person that made you leave your home, your family and your friends_?_ I'd wager you hate that person."

The words fell like a slap and Gwen felt herself shrink inside. She looked down for a moment and very calmly Gwen slipped the herb basket from where it hung in the crook of her arm.

"Take this," she thrust it in Ylsa's direction, and then raised her head to look her square in the eyes. "You don't know shit, about shit." Gwen hissed, turned and stalked off, away from Ylsa and away from the townhouse.

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><p><em><strong>Thanks for reading everyone. Next time we're in Camelot and Merlin finally learns the result of Guinevere's encounter with the bandit that robbed her. <strong>_

12


	15. The Exile,Chapter: Closer

**The Exile,**

-**Part II, Chapter XIIII- **

**Closer**

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><p><strong><em>Hello again. I have missed all of you, sorry for the delay but there were many life things that just continuously interfered like moving and my beta moving and family drama and lay off drama etc... The Exile however is not abandoned. Given the length of time between updates this time I am doing slightly longer open notes. Instead of just a brief summary I'm giving excerpts from the previous chapters that are pertinent to this chapter. I hope this is helpful if not please let me now and I can go back to my very brief summaries.:<em>**

_C_hapter 10 Respite. -_"I loved a woman. I wasn't supposed to but I did." For a moment his eyes slid over the carved edge of the table. "She was a friend of mine and wanted a child desperately. Her uh- spouse couldn't give her one so they begged me to do so instead." Gwaine to Arthur.-  
><em>

_Chapter 13 Of Friends, Families,etc...-"You made him sick," she accused. If she was living with a magic user she needed to know._

_"And how would I do something like that?" Ylsa crossed her arms; dark eyes wide and waiting._

_Gwen swallowed not wanting to speak but remembering how she erred with Morgana, ignored the signs._

_"With magic," the words came out in a harsh whisper.-_

_-"Ylsa looked down for a moment. "You say you don't hate anybody not even these magic users that attacked your home, your family and your friends." Ylsa lifted her head and met her eyes "What of the person that made you leave your home, your family and your friends? I'd wager you hate that person."_

_The words fell like a slap and Gwen felt herself shrink inside. She looked down for a moment and very calmly Gwen slipped the herb basket from where it hung in the crook of her arm._

_"Take this," she thrust it in Ylsa's direction, and then raised her head to look her square in the eyes. "You don't know shit, about shit." Gwen hissed, turned and stalked off, away from Ylsa and away from the townhouse."- Ylsa to Gwen._

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><p>Gwen wandered the streets of Wyeledon. She didn't want to see Ylsa or any of the residents of the townhouse just now. It was her fault she'd been banished from Camelot, her fault that she had no family and friends. Somehow she'd kept it from her mind, refused to think about it, refused to feel it, ever since that bandit had attacked her in the woods. She couldn't undo what had been done and thinking of it was wasteful. But Ylsa's words had been like springing a hunter's snare.<p>

She walked the streets she knew not really seeing anyone or anything, ignoring the cries of the merchants in the markets, the people crowding the streets and the smells assaulting her. All the while she continued the fight to keep it from her mind turning her focus to other things; her limited supply of money, her need for a job and Alfonsa's threat. The gold, brought her mind back to Arthur, how he loved her and how she'd hurt him. She came to the end of the streets she knew and started east. The sea which she had yet to visit was east, that was what everyone said. If you just went east you'd come upon it.

_Lancelot pushing her back against the edge of the table-_

-She didn't want to think about it. Someone said hello to her and she ignored them, hating the rudeness but unable to form simple pleasantries.

Plants, she pictured them in her mind comfrey, the shape of the leaves how they grew. Good for arthritis and to encourage healing in broken bones.

_His lips strangely cold on hers- _

-Coriander strengthening to the stomach and heart, halts the grippe and helps to clear wind-

_-She strangely welcoming, eager for him. Arthur rushing in with a roar, the two men fighting and then- She couldn't let Arthur kill him. Couldn't let him fall on a man that had served him so bravely, so willingly sacrificed everything he had for them. Just as she had asked Lancelot to give his life for Arthur, she now stopped Arthur from taking it- and Arthur-_

_-Arthur shrinking, crashing, falling, his sea blue eyes midnight dark with anguish that she had caused to be there her betrayal of him completed with that one act. Of all the things that she had ever done how could she have brought that pain to him? Knowing that she was the cause of the pain in her love's eyes it pierced the cloud of lust that had descended upon her after Lancelot's visit. She wanted nothing from him or his gifts. Any confusion about her feelings for the two men- seeing the hurt she'd cause Arthur blew it from her mind, but_ _too late, too late!_

"Arthur I'm so sorry." Her knees trembled and turned to water. Gwen sagged against the hard edge of a stone wall. How long she leaned against the strange stone building weeping into her sleeve Gwen did not know but eventually she looked around and even with the blur of tears in her eyes; she could see very easily that she was on a completely unfamiliar street. She looked around, looked over her shoulder and saw nothing recognizable.

Gwen fought a second swell of tears. She didn't know the city at all. Feeling weak and worn she sat down in an out of the way corner. How could this morning have soured so?

For a long while her mind went in circles, running over the tattered broken streets of her life. She had lost Arthur, thrown him away. In spite of all her efforts she could do no better than maid. Ylsa was a witch, her new home, new friends were tainted by magic and of course she was lost.

_"When your life seems to be unraveling start with the things that you can knit together first"- _That was what her mother had told her once very long ago and that was what she had always done.

She did it now concentrating on her most simple and immediate problem, getting into a part of the city that she knew. Gwen surveyed the street again looking for any familiar sight. It was not her eyes that saved her but what she heard and smelt, _the_ Market.

Merchants crying out the value of their wares, the babble of languages, the familiar blend of rot, stink, spice, perfume and food, Guinevere followed her ears and nose to the market. Relief flooded through her at the familiar sight of the seemingly endless market stalls. After a few wrong turns she found the fabric market, making certain to impress other stalls on her memory so as not to become lost again. From the fabric market she made her way to more familiar streets. Here she hesitated-

_"I wager you hate the person that made you leave Camelot-" _

She thought of Ylsa who saw too much, Synove who didn't see anything and Kerenza who did not share things she saw. She was not going back to the townhouse, not yet. But where else could she go? She thought briefly of going to Adras'. She felt that the other woman might welcome her company and felt foolish for it, she barely knew Adras, and she certainly had no reason to presume friendship. That left spending her money in the market or the Church. The Church welcomed all visitors at all times and Father Flaejer had been the first person in the city to show her any kindness coupled with the fact that she still owed them for a nights charity made up Gwen's mind. With determined strides and unhappy thoughts still swirling in her head Gwen started the direction of the church.

When she'd first come to the hostel the only thing on her mind had been getting out of the cold and the rain. She had not truly looked at the building or noticed how lovely it was. Now though she starred in wonderment.

Unlike many of the buildings in Wyeledon which seemed to be reaching for the sky this one sprawled. Two arms ran along a wide courtyard cobbled with pale stone. The two arms of the building were made of creamy stucco while the main building was made of a warm pale stone. These however were not the features that distinguished the building. It was the roof.

The roof of the building was tiled in an unusual collection of tiny red, green, orange and black tiles making a dizzying array of repeating triangles up and down all sides gleaming in the afternoon sunlight. All of the dormers, and there were many along the second floor, were built around warm ochre timber beams and topped with iron crosses made with curling ends. For a long moment Gwen stared at the strange building wondering how she had not taken it in before. Then with a shrug she crossed the courtyard to find Father Flaejer. She found him in the chapel, fading red hair neatly groomed, wearing his simple black priestly garb studying one of the stained glass windows. It was the virgin they seemed to worship, gazing down upon him, expression serene, sunl0069ght beaming through the golden halo they had created about her head.

"Excuse me Mr. Flaejer?" He didn't seem to be praying but still Gwen somehow felt as if she were interrupting.

"Jenafere," his smile faltered upon seeing her. "Are you unwell?"

She sniffed enjoying the sweet spicy fragrance of incense.

"It has been a most eventful day, Mr. Flaejer, but I will be well enough." He studied her a moment considering her words.

"Come sit." He motioned toward one of the pews "Would you perhaps like to share what troubles you Ms. Jen? You are not one of my parishioners but I do not limit so simple a kindness as a listening ear to the members of my church."

Guinevere studied the dark, gleaming wood panels of the floor for a moment. She thought of Arthur, the pain she had caused him and was tempted for a moment to lay it all before him. Father Flaejer seemed to be such a warm and kind man but she could not bear the thought of her few friends knowing what kind of weak, cruel woman she was. Guinevere shook her head.

"Actually Mr. Flaejer I came because I found myself at a loose ends and I know that you are always very busy here with all the people you help. I thought I might assist you for the day."

He seemed to weigh her words a moment before finally nodding.

"Very well. We need help in the kitchen as always and there is cleaning to be done throughout the hostel. I think the gardening is done for the day but we need help in the infirmary."

Guinevere frowned considering the last word. She'd never heard it before but-

"Infirmary?"

"Yes a hospital for the sick like in monasteries but in the cities and designed after the Roman fashion."

Guinevere felt her eyes go wide.

"Does it- does it employee a physician?"

"It does." He looked at her perplexed, grey eyes curious "Why?"

"I thought only large wealthy households might employee a physician- could afford a physician."

"Well they are certainly paid better in households but he supports his family ably on what our patrons pay him." A worried look crossed the priest face deepening the lines in his forehead. "Are you ill Ms. Jen?"

Gwen let out a shrill little laugh of nerves and excitement and shook her head, a strange thrill running through her.

"No." Somehow she was going to get a job here. "Are there many such infirmaries here in Wyeledon?"

"No."

"Does this one employ an assistant physician?"

"Presently he does not but we've recently acquired a new patron and I know that is something Physician Pradeep has been asking for. Do you know something of medicine Ms. Jen?"

She nodded vigorously, "I do. I was actually studying with the physician back home."

"If such a position opens then you must apply. There are those amongst our patrons who would like a female physician at the infirmary."

"Truly?"

"Oh yes, can you get me a letter of recommendation from the physician you worked with previously?"

"Ahhh," Gwen looked away. "I can't."

"It does not matter," she heard him say a moment later, "like many, many people in Wyeledon you are here for a new start and the assistant position is a learning position. All you need is intelligence, work ethic and willingness for that. You must apply. Perhaps you can get Ylsa to give you a recommendation."

Guinevere grimaced.

"What is it?"

"We had an argument," Guinevere confessed.

"What about?"

"She's a witch!" Guinevere declared. Father Flaejer studied her for a moment before leaning back against the pew with a little _ahhh_.

"You subscribe to Camelot's philosophy that magic is evil and dangerous?"

Guinevere nodded vigorously. "I've never seen it do anything good."

He nodded. "Reason enough to believe something is bad, the evidence of your own eyes is very important but to your first point. I'm not certain that Ylsa is a witch. Our Lord Christ gave the power of healing to all of the disciples and all of those that have faith enough."

Guinevere frowned, "You're saying Ylsa is not a witch? She seems to think so."

"I could call a chair a table that still doesn't make it something to eat on."

She didn't say anything and he continued.

"Our faith and our strength come from our love of God and all that is good. Ylsa may seem a flippant and impertinent woman and she is no Christian but I have seen her love of all that is good demonstrated time and again. When the Vikings invaded three springs ago there were many injured and wounded not just women as Ylsa usually tends, injuries were amongst everyone. She nearly killed herself saving the lives of our people here and after she took care of our own, she took over the care of the prisoners as well." He paused a moment and leaned in more closely "And I have heard though I do not know the truth of this that she even offered her services to the invaders on the condition that they leave."

Guinevere considered the dark-skinned woman with the easy smile and the ready laugh, imagined Ylsa confronting the Vikings offering to heal or harm them.

"When it was over and done she was- wrung out if you will, she had given everything that she could and somehow still found more." He drew a deep breath. "I found her here in the church crying because one of her infants had died because she was too exhausted to help them. Hundreds of lives she saved or improved and she was crying for the one she couldn't. I don't fully understand what Ylsa's gift means but I know what she does, the way she speaks about it. It can only be good."

"I did not know these things about her," Gwen said in soft wonderment.

"Of course you couldn't," he patted her hand in a friendly way, "you've only been here in Wyeledon for two months. Physician Pradeep is not here presently but if you'd like to have a look at the infirmary it's just through these doors." Father Flaejer pointed to a pair of doors on the north side of the chapel.

"Jen, Father Flaejer." They both turned at the sound of Adras' voice. The other woman stood behind them wearing a gleaming white tunic embroidered with jacobean* brown and copper flowers and white trousers also trimmed at the seams in brown and copper.

"Here's the woman of the hour. Ms. Jen," The priest smiled "it is actually Ms. Adras that got us our newest patron. Truly she can charm just about anything out of these merchants."

"Don't listen to him, it's all bullying and blackmailing that I do." Adras gave her a quick wink with a smile.

"Did you know our Ms. Jen knows something of medicine?"

"I did not," Adras said clearly surprised.

"Apparently she's already worked as a physician's assistant and she says she'd like to do it again."

Adras studied her a moment as if reassessing her before giving her a little smile.

"Physician Pradeep hasn't returned has he?"

"No," Father Flaejer shook his head.

"I've a something for Physician Pradeep. I'm just dropping it off now. Jen would you like to see the infirmary?"

She nodded.

"Very well, Ms. Jen I shall leave you in Adras' capable hands." He gave her arm a little pat. "Think about what I said. Good day ladies." The priest rose and departed.

"Well aren't you just full of surprises? You never mentioned an interest in medicine."

"I didn't know there was an infirmary in Wyeledon. I'm not interested in working with a household and besides I don't have any references for it anyway." Gwen got to her feet.

"Oh," Adras looked at her questioningly for a moment. "Why don't you write home?"

"I'd rather not, not yet and I hope you won't either."

"I know but I am going to have to tell my brother sooner or later."

"I haven't forgotten," Gwen said softly.

Adras pushed open the door to the little hall that connected the chapel and the infirmary. It was a stuffy little space hot with summer warmth. Then Adras opened the infirmary door and a pungent waft of cloves and water mint hit them along with the usual church smells of frankincense and myrrh. The infirmary wing was bright, airy and just a bit warm after the stuffy little hall. The patient beds were enclosed with oak paneling and draped for warmth. Sunlight gleamed of the wood and the air had a clean pungent smell.

"Cloves and water mint?"

"Yes. Ylsa recommended that everything that comes into contact with a patient be washed in a solution of clove oil, water mint and water, especially hands. She says it drives out the foul humors that cause disease." Adras said. "Everything, dishes, bedding, clothing, the floors, the walls, the staff, visitors and no rugs, or rushes either."

Gwen felt her eyes widen. Clove was beneficial and cleanliness was an important part of good health but that seemed a bit extreme.

"Recovery rates have increased drastically since we took on her approach. Physician Pradeep's workroom is back here."

She followed Adras down a long wood paneled hallway and up a stone spiral staircase. The second floor walls were made of the same sandy colored stone as the building's exterior. Guinevere imagined it might be very cool in the winter.

Adras opened the door of the work room and Gwen followed her inside. Entering the physician's room was like entering a jungle. The room was warm and cluttered with plants. They hung from the ceiling, decorated the work table, populated the window sill and found homes amongst the books and scrolls. A look around revealed smaller room cordoned off with a curtain and narrow bed.

"He likes to be able to prepare remedies when needed."

"Does he live here?" Gwen asked eyeing the narrow bed.

"Oh no but sometimes he sleeps here if a patient needs a lot of attention."

"Oh."

"Jen, what you recommend for trouble with the menses?"

"Menses is there a lot of pain or extensive bleeding?"

Adras looked at her thoughtfully for a moment "Both."

"Ginger, red raspberry leaf, milk of any sort, cramp bark, nettle" Gwen smiled, "that's an easy one and stay very active."

Adras nodded went to the desk and put the scroll she'd been carrying into the desk drawer. Then she went to the set of shelves furthest from the window. Instead of plants it contained a host of jars, papers and all manner of medical accoutrements. After a while she picked a small bottle tagged with an AM.

"For my daughter Ambrosine."

"She is twelve, right?" Guinevere nodded.

Adras nodded.

"Now that you have seen the infirmary where are you off to?"

"I had not decided yet." Gwen no longer felt like doing any chores.

"Well I'm headed off home. If you're in no particular hurry you're welcome to see the garden and have supper with us. Ambry and Esobal love company."

Gwen had to admit she was curious about the two children as well as Adras's home.

"I think I would like that." Guinevere found herself smiling as she accepted the invitation along with Adras' arm.

Adras' cart was waiting outside. She'd seen larger carts in the street some that would as many as ten. Adras' looked to have seating for six with four wheels and team of six horses. What it lacked in size it made up for in beauty being of pale golden wood carved with owls, flowers and olive trees. While the box itself looked sturdy Gwen thought the way it sat on wooden slats suspended by chains seemed a bit dangerous.

"Perhaps we could walk." She said.

"You're scared aren't you?" Adras grinned at her.

"No," Gwen denied. "It's just- it looks very heavy the way it's sitting there in between those wheels."

"You are scared," Adras chuckled. "It's perfectly safe I wouldn't let Ambry and Esobal ride in anything that was dangerous and they ride in it all the time."

"They do?"

Adras nodded. By that time the driver had opened the carriage and put out the steps.

"Come seize the day Jen, you won't live forever."

"Very well."

The inside was lined with padded benches and gauzy white curtains covered the windows. Guinevere sat on the bench furthest from the door and Adras and took the space opposite her. Once they were settled Adras knocked on the ceiling, signaling the driver to go. After a moment the cart gave a little lurch and started forward bouncing with a rattle of the chains that suspended it between the four wheels. Guinevere gripped her seat suddenly nervous.

"Be at ease." Adras shouted over the rattle of the chains and steady drum beat of horse hooves.

Guinevere nodded not exactly convinced. After a few failed attempts to shout over the noise of the cart the two women gave up all effort at conversation and fell silent. Gwen studied the buildings of Wyeledon, houses of wattle and daub or stucco and timber, some buildings of stone. She watched the people crowding in the streets, going about their business and marveled at what she saw still not used to all the variety of people she saw daily in Wyeledon.

She saw a finally dressed husband and wife that Ylsa would have referred to as Chi'n, a group of Sinahala women in brightly colored clothes with bare dark brown arms. People stared at the cart too, especially children, one blonde woman stopped a little blonde child from running under the horses hooves. The ride went on and Gwen found herself thinking of Ylsa. She found that preferable to thinking of Arthur.

_"Never a more loving woman have I known, she treats the life of her brothers and sisters as if they were her own and that is as Christ directs. It is good and all good is of God."_

Loving was not how Gwen would have described Ylsa. Flippant and impertinent, yes. Loving…?

But then she considered Ylsa dropping everything to rush to the side of some woman laboring to bring her child into the world; often poor women who paid her in coppers and food and pottery and baskets.

_"Most physicians think themselves too good for the common folk," _Ylsa's word.

Hundreds of lives saved, only one infant lost –ye Gods! Kings would pour treasure at her feet to ensure the safety of their future sons, to keep themselves healthy and fit and perhaps even to sicken their enemies. Yet she lived a meager life sleeping on a narrow bed, sharing one room with three other women.

"Jenafere."

"Adras," she replied focusing on the present. "We've come to a stop."

"Yes come along."

The door opened. Adras alighted. A moment she turned round to help her out and Gwen noticed the strength of the other woman's slim, elegant hands.

"Oh my," Guinevere said taking in Adras's home.

They were on the outer edges of the city so it was no sprawling countryside manor. It was a narrow three story building made of bluish stone and hidden from the world by its own wall. The grounds were expansive enough that the city itself faded away. But it was not this that had elicited Gwen's response. It was the grandness of the building. Stained glass windows gleamed in its walls and curving stone stair case rose to the entrance. White marble columns soared into an arching ceiling and the entry walls were covered with gleaming mosaic tiles in gold, green, blue and white. The grounds themselves were planted with a few fir trees and a thriving garden of rose bushes and lilacs added its own charm.

"Well it is certainly beautiful."

"Thank you." Adras gave some direction to her driver and the two women went inside. Once inside she led Gwen to the parlor and sent a servant to fetch her children.

"Make yourself comfortable."

Gwen did as the other woman suggested and settled on one of the rooms two padded chairs. It was a comfortable space. In addition to the chairs there were three little padded benches all arranged round the fire place. The drapes that covered the windows were pulled open to take full advantage of the sunlight. Cushions littered the floor and a worn but sturdy looking table was pushed against the wall. Gwen counted three stools beneath it and realized that this must be where Adras gathered with her family.

Most interesting of all was the painting above the fire place. A woman with bright blue eyes and long straight dark hair, wearing a deep blue gown looked down at them. It was her expression that caught Gwen. The limner had captured some mixture of wisdom and warmth but there was a steadiness or certainty in the eyes as well.

"What happened Jen? Why don't you want to write home?"

"I'd really just rather not. Does anything have to have happened? Does some scandal or drama have to have passed?" Gwen demanded with annoyance.

"No of course not."

"Sorry."

Adras studied her for a moment as if weighing her next words.

"We need women physicians here in Wyeledon." She said after a while. "We need women physicians all over Britannia."

Guinevere nodded. There were no universities** that would admit women in Britannia. Women interested in the practice of medicine were forced to learn from whatever male physician would teach them. When she'd gone to Gaius requesting to be his pupil after Morgana had disappeared for the second time he'd been delighted to teach her. The continent according to Gaius was different.

"I hope you are serious. It's very important. One of the many things my teacher, a brilliant woman, taught me is how brotherhood is taught to men and it unites and empowers them yet women are taught to shun sisterhood and so we are weakened." Adras explained.

Guinevere looked at the other woman not sure what to make of that statement.

At that moment the parlor door opened and the two children entered. The girl, the older of the two, looked directly at her with frank curiosity while the smaller boy seemed far more interested in his dirty hands. Guinevere saw Adras's eyes goes straight to his feet which were bare but clean.

"Ambrosine, Esobal this is my friend Jenafere."

At that moment a servant entered and beckoned to Adras.

"Excuse me for a moment. Esobal be good and don't get Ms. Jen dirty. Ambry, keep an eye on your brother." Adras left and Guinevere studied the two children.

The girl curtseyed and smiled, with the exception of red curls she looked nothing like Adras. Eyes as blue as the sky looked at her with frank curiosity from a round face that was certain to garner cheek pinching from every auntie the girl might ever meet.

"You can call me Ambry."

"Pleased to meet you Ambry." Guinevere smiled at the child's practical nature.

"Say hi, Esobal." Ambry said in an exacerbated tone.

Esobal finally looked at her and Gwen felt her eyes go wide. With the exception of bright blue eyes the boy bore an uncanny resemblance to Gwaine.

"Nice to meet you pretty lady."

"Nice to meet you too young man and thank you."

"You're welcome. Do you want a present?"

Gwen studied the muddy child wondering what poor animal he'd managed to capture today.

"It's a surprise. I'm certain you'll like it." He looked up at her earnestly and Gwen felt herself caving.

"Very well."

"Close your eyes and hold out your hand."

Gwen did as the child directed and felt something cool, soft and slippery laid in her palm.

"She doesn't want that." Guinevere heard Ambry protest and fought a smile.

"You can open your eyes now."

Gwen did knowing already what she would find.

A common frog rested in her open palm.

"What a lovely frog." Gwen crouched so that they were eye level. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." The child seemed inordinately pleased with himself.

"But I don't think we should keep him though."

His little face fell. "Why not?"

"Well he needs a pond, and bugs to eat, and trees and shrubs and things. Houses aren't really made for frogs. If he stays here he might die."

"Oh, like my other mother?"

Gwen glanced up at Ambry who seemed to be studying her intently as if waiting to gauge her response.

"Your _other_ mother?"

"My momma Isobelle. She died just after I was born. Mom says it's not my fault."

"Well I'm sorry about your other mother." Gwen glanced at Ambry who seemed completely unperturbed by this conversation.

"You don't have to be sad. Mom says she's up in heaven."

"I'm sure that's true," Gwen agreed. Adras returned as she said that.

"What's true?" Adras asked.

"That we don't have to be sad about Momma Isobelle because she's up in heaven." Esobal said.

Adras sighed wearily and nodded slowly.

"Mom I'm gonna put him back in the pond."

"That's fine but be quick you need a bath before dinner."

"A bath?"The boy protested.

Adras fixed him with a no nonsense look and Esobal nodded.

"Ambry come with me to the pond," he looked at her with pleading blue eyes.

"I have to practice my calligraphy for the contest."

"Please," he wheedled "you've been practicing all day and you don't hardly ever do anything with me anymore."

The older girl sighed and nodded but she was smiling clearly flattered.

"Very well."

Esobal let out a whoop and took his sisters hand without thinking already tugging her from the room

"Don't forget Ambry your brother needs to get back here in time for a bath.

"Yes mom. Nice to meet you Ms. Jenafere." The two children hurried off, Esobal's grubby hand tucked securely into the hand of his sister as he chattered animatedly to her.

"They seem really close." Gwen said thinking of how happy Esobal's face had brightened when his sister agreed to play with him.

"Oh yes Esobal adores her and she takes good care of him."

"Who's that?" Gwen indicated the portrait, wondering about the other mother.

For a moment Adras looked as if she were struggling to decide what to say next.

"It's no secret," she said at last. "My late wife Isobelle died of childbed fever leaving me with Esobal who bears her name."

"Wife?"

Adras nodded.

"Well I'm sorry about your loss," Gwen said digesting this bit of information. She knew of women that had female lovers though none that had ever married.

"She was very dear to me thank you." Adras fell silent.

"Esobal looks like you?"

"Not exactly," Adras said and watched her expectantly one red eyebrow quirked in challenge.

"Gwaine?"

Adras nodded.

"Why would he have an affair-"

"-There was no affair, not in the traditional sense of the word. We asked him to help us and he did."

"Oh." Gwen considered that not exactly sure what to think about that. "Esobal certainly reminded me of Gwaine. What about Ambry?"

"We found her after a fire; no one understood how she survived really. She had no relatives and Isobelle wanted her; named her Ambrosine, means immortal." Adras looked sad for just a moment. "So we are a family, a bit unusual but a family none-the-less."

Gwen nodded at a loss for words.

"So would you like to talk about what is troubling you today Jen?"

"Nothing is troubling me." Gwen lied, with everything that Adras had just told her the fight with Ylsa seemed rather insignificant.

Adras studied her a moment.

"Well we've some time before supper why don't I show you the gardens?"

For just a moment Guinevere considered confiding in the other women but only said "I'd like that."

Guinevere followed Adras down the hall, feeling a bit of curiosity about the rest of the house. _Another time_ she thought to herself.

An arch marked the entrance to the garden. Carnations in blue, pink, yellow, white and lavender grew up over it and Gwen felt a subtle lightening of the spirit when they passed under it. As this was a city dwelling there was only a pleasure garden and a small vegetable garden. Both were enclosed with a great wooden fence to protect them from damage or theft. The pleasure garden lay nearest the house filling the air with the sweet fragrance of flowers in bloom. They followed a little path made from pieces of fitted field stone to garden of roses, jasmine and rosemary growing up the trellised walls that shielded it from the rest of the world. A stone fountain sat in the center of the garden and the song of little birds having a bath filled the air. Magnolia trees littered the ground with their petals.

Gwen smiled with delight and breathed in the sweet, warm scent of magnolias.

"When I was a little girl whenever my mother got the chance she would go to the palace and gather the fallen magnolia petals and blossoms. We would use them to make perfume or scent our bath. It wasn't so very often but it was fun."

Adras smiled.

In a moment Gwen's thought slipped from the pleasant memory to Camelot and magic.

"Adras magic is not illegal here is it?"

"No, but it's not encouraged either. Why?"

"I was just thinking about home." Gwen squinted momentarily as the sun beamed down on her.

"Camelot's ban on magic?"

"Yes."

"What about it?"

"I don't understand how it can be legal. I've seen it do so many terrible things."

"You know what King Uther told you. Magic is the equalizer between men and women. It can both help and hinder. People can and will do evil with whatever talents, abilities and power that they have just as they will do good with them."

"Perhaps all that you say is true but I've not seen magic help anyone. I've seen the dead walk, magic borne illness and people's minds stolen from them."

Sunlight bounced of Adras's hair making it into a fiery halo.

"Gwaine has told me some of the challenges your Camelot has faced; that is why magic is not illegal here."

"Why it's not illegal here?" Guinevere stared at Adras. If they knew the danger, why wouldn't it be banned?

"King Uther and the people of Camelot had their reasons to oust the old corrupt regime it is true but his fear of magic, his guilt for his abuse of magic made him as corrupt as the old regime and endangered Camelot as much as it protects it."

"His guilt?"Guinevere looked questioningly at Adras.

"Yes everyone knows, although I'm sure it's forbidden to speak of it in Camelot but everyone knows that Uther made a deal with a priest of the old religion to get his son. That's why the queen died. He probably thought he'd offer up some other poor unfortunate's life but the magic did the choosing."

"Magic? Arthur-" Gwen's words came out in a whisper unheard by Adras.

"Probably fitting that."

"What?"

"Uther of course was not so friendly to Wyeledon because we did not agree with the ban but the merchants have made friendly overtures to the new king and he seems to be responding in kind."

"Oh." First Ylsa wanted to talk about Morgana and now Adras wanted to talk about Arthur, could she not escape Camelot this day?

"We may even send some young men to be trained with his knights."

Camelot was moving forward without her. Arthur was ruling without her counsel.

"Camelot surely has the best knights in all of Albion." Did her voice quaver as she said those words? She felt a twist of bitter envy for the young knights that would go freely to Camelot, train with Arthur and perhaps eat bread baked by the Goodes.

"Still I don't envy them. Gwaine says shrimp and shellfish are an expensive delicacy there and there's no ocean to look at whenever you like."

"No but they'll get to watch the sun rise and set over the palace. I've yet to have any bread and as perfect as the bread baked by the Goodes." Longing for Arthur, homesickness washed over her then.

"Are you well Jen?"

"I'm fine." She had done so well keeping it all out of her mind.

Adras closed a gentle hand round her forearm and guided her to a stone bench.

"No you're not."

She felt an arm come round her shoulders.

"You don't have to tell me why you're sad." Adras said softly. "Just let me comfort you."

The words were like pulling a string. The hurt that she'd been burying, the tears that she'd been damning welled suddenly, unstoppably to the surface. She put her arms around Adras and wept onto her shoulder. After her father died she'd been alone with her misfortunes. Yes she'd had Morgana but that could be a source of comfort and anxiety. And Morgana had grown increasingly cold and distant to the point where Gwen came to fear for her life. There had been Merlin but he was often busy with other things and eventually Arthur but he was gone now.

Since her father's death that had been no friend that was not separated from her in some way or relationship that carried some expectation. Her relationship with Arthur had divided her from her commoner friends, the knights were men, Merlin besides being a man was often busy and rank and privilege were always between her and Morgana. Eventually there had come a point when there had only been Arthur to confide in and somehow that didn't seem fair to either of them.

Gwen let her tears pour onto Adras's shoulder, let that intense aching feeling, that longing for everything she knew flow out of her, until the raw intensity of her pain lessened to a dull ache. When she lifted her head she felt better lighter somehow.

"Better?"

She nodded and Adras produced a kerchief, monogrammed of course. Gwen took the kerchief and cleaned up her face, frowning when she saw the damp spot on Adras's shoulder.

"I'm sorry about that." She laid light fingers on the soaked spot

"Don't be your tears will dry without leaving a trace."

They heard the cry of a heron in the silence.

"Jenafere listen to me." Adras titled her chin between her forefinger and thumb and looked at her very intently. "You are one of a very few people that has not judged me or any aspect of my lifestyle; such are few and far between. That makes you a valuable friend." The other woman smiled for a moment. "Your feelings are important to me so please don't lie to me if you're unhappy or angry or feeling any other hurt. I want to know about it all right? You don't have to tell me why you're unhappy but please know that you can share your feelings with me and I won't make light of them ever."

Gwen smiled tentatively not at all certain what to make of Adras' words.

"All right."

Adras smiled broadly and Gwen was struck by how pretty it was.

"You have a lovely smile." Gwen said changing the subject.

Adras leaned back a bit the faintest hint of pink in her pale cheeks.

"Thank you."

Gwen studied the other woman's expression; the cool redhead seemed a bit discomfited suddenly.

Adras got to her feet, "This is one of my favorite part areas of the garden. Shall we perhaps remain here until supper?"

Gwen thought it over for a moment. It had been a long day.

"Yes I think so."

They lounged in the garden enjoying the bird song, the sun, the shade and the sweetness of the air until supper time drew near. Dinner that evening was a rich fare, a merchant's meal. Gwen savored it with delight, a pleasant diversion from day's event. Flavorful red meat seasoned and roasted deliciously, flaky pastry stuffed with potatoes, chopped green onion and cheese, a dish of cabbage and peas steamed with butter and shallots. Adras shared a wink with her when that one was presented. She was Adras's only guest that evening and Ambry and Esobal plied her with question about their Uncle Gwaine's adventures. Guinevere did her best to answer their questions over a dessert with waffles, sweet cream and brandied pears.

At the conclusion of dinner they retired to the parlor for an evening of cards and stories until Gwen found herself yawning.

Adras ordered up her driver and stating that she had some business with Ms. Alfonsa accompanied Gwen back to the townhouse. The two women sat side-by-side in cart both silently absorbed in their own thoughts. Feeling weary Gwen relaxed and leant against her friend.

"Tired?" Adras murmured.

"Yes. Ylsa and I were up before dawn."

"You have had a full day."

The two women lapsed into silence. She still didn't know what do or think about Ylsa's magic or whatever it was that seemed to be magic. Her instincts screamed to her of danger but her logic, her knowledge of the other woman told her that Ylsa was no danger to anyone. Though once she had believed the same thing of Morgana. Still father Flaejer and Adras were not fools they weren't ignorant of the danger. By the time the cart came to a halt Gwen was no closer to answer than she had been when she'd asked Ylsa if she were a witch that morning.

Supper had already been eaten when they arrived at the time townhouse. Ylsa of course was off delivering a baby somewhere, Kerenza and Ms. Alfonsa were in the parlor playing cards, Synove was playing some soft, soothing melody for them.

"Adras, what brings you to us at this hour?" Ms. Alfonsa asked before turning her dark thoughtful gaze on Guinevere.

"Jenafere has been my guest for the day but I thought perhaps I should return her and besides we need to discuss our friend."

"Oh." Ms. Alfonsa's eyebrows arched for a moment. "Excuse me Kerenza we shall have to finish our game later."

"This is because I'm winning isn't it?" Kerenza said.

"Now you know that isn't so." Ms. Alfonsa said and swept from the room taking Adras with her.

"Ylsa was really upset," Synove said as soon as they heard the door to Ms. Alfonsa's study shut.

"Well I hope you're well today Synove." Gwen said not really wanting to discuss this with them.

"You basically told her she should be burnt at the stake."

Gwen gasped. "That's not-"she stopped mid-sentence, was that the essence of what she had said to Ylsa?

She sunk into the nearest chair feeling the start of a headache.

"Ylsa works with Adras, Ms. Alfonsa and Father Flaejer. You have to get along with her if you're going to live here. Ms. Alfonsa has arranged for Ylsa to inherit this place when she dies," Synove finished with a sniff, got up and left.

"Jen," Kerenza said.

"I suppose now you're going to tell my how wrong I am too?"

"No." Kerenza said. "Magic is illegal back home it took me some time to get used to it too."

Gwen sat up straighter.

"I wasn't living with a magic user right away but it was difficult and frightening. No one got hurt or made any monsters or possessed anyone or anything. It's mostly just for fortune telling, medicine and nuisance removal for pest and the like."

"I see."

"No one was turned into a toad." Kerenza shared a smile with her just then.

"I really don't know what to think. Everyone has told me all of these wonderful things about Ylsa and I believe them but all of my life I've seen the horrors of magic."

"I know just promise yourself to be fair. If you're fair, you'll make the right decisions. I'm thirsty." Kerenza stretched her long frame. "Do you want some mead?"

Gwen nodded.

Kerenza got up and returned a few minutes later with mugs for both of them. They talked for a short while about the little village Kerenza had come from and her mother teaching her to read Latin from a very old and worn book. Gwen was exhausted though and soon excused herself to retire for the evening. For once she slept as soon as she shut her eyes.

* * *

><p>"Ylsa?" Gwen whispered in the darkness.<p>

"Jen you're awake?"

"That's no surprise. Do you have a few minutes or do you need to sleep?"

"I have a few minutes."

Gwen grabbed her wrapper and the two women made their way down to the parlor in the dark. Guinevere lit a candle and sat it on the table between the two chairs on the far wall. For a long time both women sat silent, Gwen working her way around to a question she could not ignore.

"Are you a witch?"

Ylsa's dark eyes studied her.

"Yes."

Gwen drew in a deep breath and her grip on the arms of the chair tightened involuntarily.

"I know that many magic users have made war on Camelot, caused suffering to innocent people. They see it as the source of their persecution and therefore Camelot and its King are targeted but you must understand magic is not evil, magic users are not evil people many of us are just like everyone else. We work and try to live the best we can with the talents we are born with or the skills we gain through life."

"Adras said that as well. She said magic is more often used for good than evil. She said it was the great equalizer between men and women. "

"Adras would say that," Ylsa teeth gleamed briefly in the candle light "It can be such. My magical gift is strictly for healing, I've learned some other things but my magic is for the saving of lives. I've saved so many women that ordinary midwives could never have helped. I did make that bandit sick but it made me ill as well you saw that yourself. So I only do it to protect people, the people I care about." Ylsa looked at her at last.

Gwen held Ylsa's eyes for a moment. She kept remembering what Adras had said about accepting her.

"For all of my life, I've believed magic to be a force of evil, a corrupter of innocent minds. I've seen it used horribly. I've seen it take away people's will, make the dead walk, poison towns, corrupt the spirit, in the days where people used magic as they would they made children into monsters and twisted the world. All of you say that it can be good but I've seen it do so much harm."

"Magic is not a force in spite of what people may say. It is a tool no more than that. Like a fire its uses are many and varied. It can warm a house or burn it to the ground, so the same for magic."

Gwen was silent trying to absorb what Ylsa was telling her.

"Father Flaejer does not believe you to be a witch."

"Father Flaejer believes many things," Ylsa said. "Do you believe that I know more about magic than you do?"

"I should hope so!" They smiled briefly at that.

"Know this- powerful forces have allied themselves against Camelot in the past, magic that could have destroyed it a thousand times over. Your kings may be clever and achieve much but somewhere in Camelot there is a powerful sorcerer, the most powerful sorcerer in the world and he is protecting Camelot saving lives time and again. Believe that if you don't believe anything else. There is good magic Jen." Ylsa gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "I swear it."

* * *

><p>* In this instance jacobean refers to a tree with a bark of rich, almost chocolate brown<p>

** Since it was asked by my beta, universities date back to ancient civilizations of Africa and were common in both the roman and medieval era.

And now an invitation to our community:

Recently a popular writer here in our community received concerns about racist elements in one of his/her fics. I will not go into whether or not I think said fic was racist I wish only to address our communities' response to this situation.

Our community, our pairing, Angel Coulby and our active members are often a target of racism both from the media and the larger Merlin community. Our society is one that is steeped in institutionalized racism. As a result it is easy for an author to absorb racist stereotypes and incorporate them into their work without racist intention. Unfortunately that does not stop the work from perpetuating the institutions of racism or hurting individuals. Because our society is steeped in racism in this way the only for someone to learn not to make this type of mistake is to listen when they are told that something is racism or perpetuating stereotypes.

I won't go into whether or not I think the piece is racist. That's not the point here. My concern is our community's leap to silence people who wished to speak about the things that hurt them. Silencing those that wish to speak about racism or wish to have conversations on racism only perpetuates racism and allows it grow. If you truly are a good person and someone tells that you hurt them and you do not understand how you caused the hurt the person telling you of the hurt is giving opportunity to become a better human being. If our community is truly concerned about racism then we must not silence those that wish to speak about it no matter how painful the conversation.

Further now that I have made Adras's sexual orientation clear I invite anyone to come to with any concerns regarding my portrayal. I have consulted with three women within the lesbian community regarding her character as well as spent countless hours researching stereotypes peculiar to lesbian women and their presentation in the media. However homosexual/lesbian/bisexual, pansexual and trangendered* individuals like other minority and POC groups are not monolithic and I may have blundered unknowingly into a stereotype or hurtful portrayal. If you feel that is the case or if you have other questions about my portrayal of any group in this work I invite you to contact me, at no time do I desire to hurt anyone.

Also I will at no time disclose the name of the story or the author in question, please do not ask. I will also delete any and all comments that name the author or story.

Thank you all for your time,attention, readership and patience.

* * *

><p><em><strong>For the next chapter we really are back in Camelot. <strong>_

_***statement edited for insensitive language  
><strong>_

_****recent reviewer while I appreciate the sentiments expressed in your review regarding the fic in question for some readers there were troubling stereotypes expressed and efforts to silence those who wished to speak about those. I have removed your review as I wish the focus of conversation here to be on how we respond to discussing uncomfortable topics.I thank you for your readership and I hope you continue to enjoy reading The Exile. **_


	16. The Exile, Chapter: The Aftermath

**The Exile, Part II, Chapter XV: The Aftermath**

**Chapter 15 of The Exile brings us back to Camelot.  
><strong>

_**Previously in The Exile:  
><strong>_

_Chapter 12, And the Truth Will Out, Arthur to Merlin: _

_He drew a breath and admitted one simple fact._

_"What we saw that night in the council room was no more Lancelot than it was Guinevere. Morgana couldn't have raised him from the dead there was no body? Perhaps it was someone wearing Lancelot guise. I don't know how she might have done it but I no longer believe it. That was a show made for us to see." The anger swelled again. "That bitch when I see her again there will be no mercy; no tie of blood will protect her. Morgana's life forfeit. I swear it."_

_Chapter 14, Closer Synove to Guinevere:_

_"Ylsa works with Adras, Ms. Alfonsa and Father Flaejer. You have to get along with her if you're going to live here. Ms. Alfonsa has arranged for Ylsa to inherit this place when she dies," Synove finished with a sniff, got up and left._

_Chapter 14, Closer, Ylsa to Guinevere: _

_"Know this- powerful forces have allied themselves against Camelot in the past, magic that could have destroyed it a thousand times over. Your kings may be clever and achieve much but somewhere in Camelot there is a powerful sorcerer, the most powerful sorcerer in the world and he is protecting Camelot saving lives time and again. Believe that if you don't believe anything else. There is good magic Jen." Ylsa gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "I swear it." _

* * *

><p>She gasped and fought for air. Something- there was a pressure like some weight on her lungs holding them, forcing them. She'd never in her twenty years of life been at all aware of her lungs until this moment when they were fighting the weight that had overcome her arms and legs to simply open and close. When they were fighting to be filled with precious air. The paralysis had come after the pain, a relief at first feeling nothing but now as she gasped again for breath there came the growing horror that numbness would mean death.<p>

Merlin put his arms around her and she felt it in some distant way. She would have fought him if she could; he was the one that had poisoned her after all. She needed air-

-_Morguase!_ Morguase would come but Morguase was dead. Morguase had given her life in a fruitless sacrifice to win their war. She gasped for air- The edges of her vision blurred, she was dying-

_-No!_

With a painful wrench Morgana tore herself from the dream and opened her eyes to near darkness. She peered into the dimness of her home and saw the few faint rays of sunlight that came through the tiny windows and cracks in the roof of her underground home. It was early but morning at least. She took a deep satisfying breath filling her lungs with that all important air. She stared up at the dark grey stone that made up the roof of cellar that she now lived in.

"I'm not in Camelot anymore and I am no longer helpless."

Even lying still in bed she felt a familiar tremor in her limbs the first symptom of Hemlock poisoning and one she still suffered from time-to-time.

"I am well," she said, clenching her hands into fist and willing the tremors away. "That was more than three years ago." And yet she had moments like this still when her limbs shook or were numb. Her stomach rumbled and she got out of bed. She hadn't been eating enough recently. With a thought the candles set in candelabra and placed here and there about the cellar flared to life casting a warm glow through the room.

Morgana went to the cabinet near her bed and pulled on her cape and sandals and headed outside. The cellar was all that remained of a long abandoned roman fort. She and Morguase had taken shelter there more than a year ago. Just outside the door there was a stone stairway to what had once led the first floor that now served as her roof. She stood a moment enjoying the fresh summer air before climbing the stone stairway to the roof of her home. She walked round a stand of young trees and shrubs to the chicken coop that they had built atop the cellar.

The hens clucked to one and other at her appearance but did not stop pecking at the earth in their search for insects and seeds. She'd had the hens for a while now and thankfully they no longer pecked at her when she gathered eggs. When she had three eggs for her breakfast Morgana stood a moment in the center of the little forest coop. She'd put a spell on the coop to protect it from predators such as foxes and wolves. She probed those protections now testing them. For the moment though they were still strong. Still she had to renew them more often than she liked. When Morguase had lived the other woman had only renewed it twice in a year. Morgana found herself renewing it nearly every other month.

She sighed, locked the gates of the coop and went to the rain barrel.

There was plenty of water in the barrel and she filled an earthen jug with water to poach the eggs and steam the vegetables on her simple stove. Once inside she didn't bother with a flint for the fire and just used her magic to get it going; sadly she could not conjure a breakfast the same way. She steamed the eggs and vegetables and had them along with some smoked deer left over from a doe that Agravaine had caught.

She smiled at the memory of Agravaine turning up covered in insect bites and sores complaining almost primly the entire time how undignified Arthur's the assigning him as ambassador to the picts was. Still she was reasonably pleased with him he had managed to secure the plans of Camelot's siege tunnels in spite of Arthur's early dismissal. She had let him remain a few days before sending him to make to make certain their allies were well prepared. She could not say she'd been sad to see him go. The man was well, aggravating something about his fawning nature, his twisty tongue they grated.

Morgana settled herself at the rough wooden table missing cushioned stools. She looked at Morguase's empty seat. It was a sad thing taking every meal alone, perhaps she had been hasty in sending Agravaine away. She ate a spoonful of bland eggs and told herself to ignore the taste of uneven cooking. She still wasn't good at this but it was wasteful to use her magic for such things. One day soon she would have a castle full of servants and her crown upon her head again.

With her breakfast consumed Morgana indulged in a bit of magic, flicking her wrist to clear up the mess before putting the dishes in the cabinet. There were herbs to gather, roots and flowers that she needed for her spells and potions. She got her herb basket out of the cabinet and prepared to go about the day's business but found herself sinking into one of her homes two chairs.

It was early and yet she felt strangely tired as she so often had since she'd helped Morguase commit suicide. Just that suddenly the tears were upon her. She should not have listened.

_"I shall never recover. I no longer wish to live like this."_

_ Morgana raised her head from where she had laid it at Morguase's bedside to stare at her sister even as the harsh fist of desperation closed round her cold and relentless._

_ "No!" She denied with hot anger. "I shall care for you forever if I must, just as you have cared for me."_

_ Morguase smiled, her pale face a distorted and twisted ruin. The other had never been particularly beautiful but she had been pretty enough once._

_ "I know and I love you for it but this is no life for you." Morguase smoothed one trembling hand along her dark hair. "That is why you must help me."_

_ "No!" Morgana shot to her feet. Morguase had listened to no such talk from her when she was ill. "I will hear no such thing." With that she'd stormed out of the hovel only to collapse a few feet away into the chill snow that blanketed the forest floor clutching herself as she wept. She'd never been able to refuse Morguase anything._

"Morguase," she whimpered her sister's name and then went to the cabinet. Glad, not for the first time, that she had not been able to trade away the healing bracelet. The bracelet was gleaming silver with leaves of gold inlay fanning out across the metal and always slightly warm to the touch. She pressed the cuff round wrist with a sigh of relief. Morgana took a long deep breath before heading outside. She had no time for tears; there was work to be done.

* * *

><p>Three people were dead and sometimes he thought that number might be four. Six marriages had been wrecked, three engagements had been called off and a number of friendships had been destroyed. This of course was in addition to the destruction of Guinevere and Lancelot's reputations and the unseen emotional damage that was the result of this- he didn't even know what to call it. None of this considered the damage that she'd done when she'd held Camelot. She'd shot commoners in an effort to compel the loyalty of the knights. Arthur leaned against one of the stone columns for moment thinking about how he might repair the damage that had once again been inflicted on Camelot.<p>

Public pardons would be issued for everyone involved in an attempt to restore their reputations and Guinevere's. Morgana needed to be found of course but they had had little success with that and Guinevere…

Arthur paced the length of the empty throne room stopping a moment in a pool of torchlight, the sun was not yet up. He let his eyes travel up along the length of the columns that spiraled high into the arched ceiling. A room designed to intimidate. She had been intimidated, humiliated and shamed. He had been the author of those hurts.

_"Where shall I go? What shall I do?"*_

_ "I really can't care."_

He had said those words to her. Arthur winced away from the memory and let himself drop back into the throne. The truth of it was he had been a coward with her. Yes, treason was punishable by death. Yes, if they had been married her actions– if they had _been_ her actions -would have warranted a strong response, but they had not been married. A betrothal was similar but it was not the same. It was on that grounds that he had banished her rather than do what he could never have done. Only- had he truly shown her mercy? Letting her remain in the city would have been an error but banishing her from all of Camelot, alone…He should have shown greater mercy, found a way to make it stick.

He found her ring where it lived now near his heart and pulled it forth. Was she perhaps dead? How could he have let himself deal her such a grievous wrong? He looked into the empty throne room; saw her small, weeping, crumpled to the floor...he dropped the ring back into its place and held out his hands, creating her width betwixt them.

Guinevere had always been in the background of his life trailing behind Morgana, a tiny sparrow that he'd noticed from time-to-time, some mischief flashing in her eyes or her smile occasionally lighting a room like sunshine. But he had never truly seen her until her courage, until her loyalty had thrust her into his life. He saw her then sunshine smile, regal profile, her curls scented with the combination of vanilla and lavender or vanilla and magnolia depending on the time of the year and all of it calling to him. The moment she'd helped him save Merlin's life was the moment she'd walked into his. Courage, wisdom and honesty all bound up in a tiny package of sweet, shapely, brown flesh with flashing dark eyes and a voice that could be sweet or strident, propelled by a heart beating for love of Merlin of all people and Merlin, the idiot, never noticing.

Arthur closed his eyes and imagined her head against his shoulder, her body soft in his arms. He need only tilt his head down just a bit to inhale the heady fragrance of her curls or give them little kisses. The pairing of her small stature and giant courage stirred his every protective instinct, every protective urge. Yet he had set all that aside in an instant, forgotten every kindness she'd ever shown him. Nursing his father, nursing him, loving him, continuing to love him after telling her he was inappropriate, waking him from his enchantment…an endless list. He could never put a tally on the things she'd done for him. His father had tried to kill her for goodness' sakes and had killed her father.

He closed his eyes on reality for just a moment and saw Sarah Goode's broken body only it was Guinevere's eyes that he shut, her dark curls the only thing undamaged by her fall.

He paced to the window and looked to the horizon. There the silvery light of false dawn was only just meeting the golden light of true dawn creating a gleaming band across the horizon. Yet he was already up and dressed. He had to right this wrong. Arthur told himself to shake off the paralysis of his grief and guilt; he was a king and he had work to do. The first thing was pardons for her and every other bracelet victim.

He thought of something else then, something his father had once told him.

_ When the people are scared they will turn to magic to protect them…Magic!*_

* * *

><p>Merlin stopped in a hall near Arthur's quarters. He was in one of the quieter, less used wings of the palace. The scent of magnolias wafted up through an open window and Merlin sighed. Arthur had been up; dressed and gone when he arrived at his usual time. The king had been sleeping poorly recently and now it seemed he wasn't sleeping at all.<p>

He moved to the one of the open windows. Rather than looking out on the busy courtyard or the many walks that connected different areas of the palace this hall faced the shimmering green fields that rolled into the palace orchard. He studied the trees a moment, full and green at the height of summer and heavy with fruit that would be moist and sweet come fall. He and Gwen had often stood at these windows especially in those early days when he'd first come to Camelot. The warm, sweet fragrance of the Magnolia tree and its pink tinged white blossoms drew his attention. He saw Gwen in his mind's eye as he'd seen her in his last vision sleeping beside the stream. Merlin continued to stare at the tree its blossoms were wide as an open palm. He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

_"Gwen."-_ Now more than ever he needed to know what had become of her. The magnolia, the fields, the orchards they disappeared, the palace hall- all vanished.

_Woods, unfamiliar, grew up around him. While he recognized many of the plants he was seeing Merlin knew he'd never seen an oak tree that grew thus or a water mint that tall. It seemed early in the day but cool amongst the growth on the forest floor. He spied the pink cloudy blossoms of the mountain laurel, a shrub that only bloomed during the spring. _

_ He felt a sudden surge of happiness and forced himself to focus. Had he at last summoned a vision of Gwen? With the speed of a thought he was moving quietly and inexorably through the forest to come to a sudden standstill in a small clearing. It took him but a moment to spot Gwen lying asleep on the forest floor a few feet from a small stream. Had she camped here on purpose? This was a terrible site, the water would draw everything. _

_ He saw her alone in the middle of nowhere, no supplies, no friends…he watched the bandit approach as she slept; saw him steal Arthur's ring from her breast, watched the bandit threaten her with her own knife. Felt sick as the bandit straddled her hips and then Gwen fought him. Hope soared for a moment. She fought him hard and ugly biting, raking her nails along his face. But the bandit was a bandit, a brigand he fought better than she and soon he had her down, had his hands around her throat, choking out her life-_

-And a hand came down on his shoulder. Merlin opened his eyes to the real world and turned to face the king.

"Merlin, you idiot, what are you doing standing here in the hallway daydreaming?" Arthur demanded

He blinked and stared a moment at Arthur's perplexed face. Then everything that he had seen during the vision came down on him.

"Merlin?"

He did as he so often had, turned his agony away from the king.

"Excuse me sire." Merlin said it low and shot off like a rabbit scenting hounds.

Thankfully Gaius was not in their chambers when he reached them. Merlin stumbled into his room and pushed the door shut behind him before finally melting to his knees. Gwen was dead; he could no longer tell himself any other story. She was dead, he could have saved her and he hadn't. He could have told Arthur the truth about the Shade, he could have moved faster, should have been more suspicious…why had he assumed that she would betray Arthur with Lancelot? Why had he so easily accepted that deceit of that kind lay in her heart when he'd never seen any evidence of such a thing?

The answer came swift and unbidden because deceit of that kind lay in his heart. She had saved his life before, charged directly into danger with only courage and loyalty as her weapons no magic, no special skills. How had he repaid her? Merlin recalled that day he'd burst into the council room and declared himself a warlock because Gwen had been arrested on his behalf, for his actions.

"What has happened to me? How did I let this come to pass?"

She slipped into his thoughts then, sweet and innocent, a girl in a dull red tabard who was friendly and encouraging to him while he was in the stocks. A darling little thing with a cinnamon complexion that gave him flowers and sometimes bread, that helped Arthur save his life, the black smith's daughter with the sweetest, brightest eyes and the warmest smile.

_"Gwen, Gwen,Gwen…" _He said her name over and over again and as feelings of lightheadedness and dizziness washed over him the result of hours spent meditating and fasting and fighting himself to pull visions from the past. He didn't notice his aching knees, his cramped thighs, the creeping light of the summer sun that warmed his room to stifling hot. His mind slipped back, back, back…

_"You are two sides of the same coin." "Together you and Arthur will unite the lands of Albion and bring an era of peace and a golden age of prosperity." The Dragon's words rang through his mind spoken with majesty and force but on what authority?_

_"What's that?" Merlin looked out at the surf that pounded the shore and when he looked back Arthur had drunk both shares of poison. _

_ The jeering, cheer of the crowd came from all sides and the ropes that tied him to the stake were hard and they cut lashing blood from his wrist. The crowd had pelted them with food and offal and Gwen, braver then she should be, was yelling at Arthur. Merlin could not hear words over the crowds but he could see her face, see Arthur's. Prince Arthur stopped the execution. _

_ His mind seemed intent on walking the paths of his past. Showing him the numbers of his kind on whom he had turned his back, the people whose fates he had pushed from his mind._

_ "Morgause is lying! She's an enchantress. She tricked you. That was not your mother you saw. That was an illusion. Everything...everything your mother said to you...those were Morgause's words_."

_ "We'll never know. All I know for sure is that I've lost my father to magic. It is pure evil. I'll never lose sight of that again." Arthur had said those words after his father's death. _

_ He watched Gwen tug her cart forward neither of them able to speak to the other, the last time he would see her alive. He saw Sarah Goode then first miserable, mentally and emotionally broken and then truly broken. And he, always making the same choice._

"Merlin?"

He surveyed his room, it seemed strange for a moment as if perhaps it was not his. The door pushed at him from behind.

"Merlin?" That was Gaius' voice. He tried to move and pins and needles stung through every inch of his legs. Somehow he propelled himself forward so that Gaius could open the door.

"Merlin, are you- has something happened?" The older man crouched at his side and helped him to his feet. With Gaius' help he forced his stinging legs to make the four steps from the door to the bed to collapse face first on his bed. He felt Gaius weight settle on the bed beside him.

"Tell me what has passed Merlin?"

"Gwen is dead!"

"You can't be certain."

Merlin flipped over to face the older man.

"But I am! I saw it myself Gaius."

Gaius' raised one eyebrow and looked about for one desperate moment as he patted the pocket of his robe almost absently.

"What do you mean? Tell me everything you saw Merlin."

Merlin drew his knees up to his chest.

"I finally summoned a vision."

"Summoned?"

"Yes." He told Gaius about how he'd slipped into trance without trying and found himself witnessing a spring morn where Gwen was beaten and strangled.

The older man tucked his hand into the pocket of his robe and sighed.

"But Merlin you said yourself Arthur interrupted, you can't be sure. Anything could have happened."

"No! Gaius no!" Merlin got to his feet shaking with frustration." Don't; don't try to make this all right. Gwen is dead! She's dead don't you understand and I could have saved her."

Gaius drew in a breath still much too calm for Merlin's liking.

"Anything could have happened. You do not know."

Merlin could only imagine one outcome.

"Gaius you didn't see her, she was alone in the woods, all her supplies lost. The bandit obviously got away. I saw him take the knife that Elyan gave her, I saw him take Arthur's ring. Gwen's the one we've heard no word from. She looked so pitiful." Merlin felt his throat grow tight and drew in a deep breath, trying to pull himself together.

"Listen to me Merlin." The older man got to his feet. "Gwen's smart and strong and-"

"-And what, she must bear the consequences?" Merlin felt his earlier anger spike. How could he try and justify this, make this into something else. "Why did I ever listen to you for anything? You're just a cowardly old man concerned with saving his own skin. You don't care about Gwen; you didn't care about Morgana-"

Gaius flinched backwards as if struck. Merlin felt a brief stirring of guilt.

"Merlin," a page's voice reached them from the outer room and they fell silent."His majesty requires your presence."

"Perhaps you should wait a bit." Gaius whispered.

"I'm done listening to you," Merlin hissed back with a glare. "Coming," he called to the page.

* * *

><p>Merlin halted at Arthur's door. Little more than a month ago Elyan had reported Gwen's apparent death to Arthur. To Merlin he had seemed to derive some perverse satisfaction in seeing the king crumble at that news. Yet Elyan had also believed that Gwen might yet live.<p>

How could he tell Arthur that Gwen was surely dead. How would he explain his knowledge? Merlin felt a dull familiar ache at the back of his head. The ache of too many things on his shoulders, the ache of too much depending upon him, too many decisions and burdens carried alone. He forced his shoulders down and wriggled his lower jaw trying to ease the strain. It didn't help but then maybe he deserved that.

"One thing at a time," Merlin whispered to himself. He had soldiered on after so many things and he would do so now, somehow. He took a deep breath and opened Arthur's door.

Arthur was sitting at his work table with Seneschal Harold.

Like Magistrate Grigor, the seneschal was a minor noble, a thin pale man with dark hair and pale grey eyes. There was an air of seriousness about the man and though Merlin found him perfectly tolerable he seemed at times to the warlock a little too keen to remind everyone his rank and its importance. Still he was extremely good at his job.

"Ahh Merlin just in time," Arthur said looking up from his work.

Merlin froze and that acid feeling of guilt burned in his stomach. When had Arthur's skin become so dull, his complexion tinged with an unhealthy yellow? His cheekbones always prominent were still more visible, dark circles rode heavy and black under his eyes and somehow he seemed even to have aged. Gwen had looked equally wretched in his vision.

"I need you to write up a list of instructions for the Magistrate. I'm issuing pardons for Guinevere and Tom as well as all the women that wore the bracelet."

"Sire," he acknowledged with a bow.

"Before we announce the pardons though I want the magistrate to sit with the women and their spouses individually and explain the situation. There is Sarah Goode's family." Arthur fell silent for a moment and his blue eyes seemed very far away for a moment. "I think perhaps I had better meet with them myself." The king's words were soft and Merlin saw his hand go to Gwen's ring.

"Of course" Merlin ignored the tight feeling in his throat and grabbed a quill and paper to get to work.

Arthur turned back to the seneschal. It didn't take Merlin long to draft the letter to the magistrate. When he'd finished Arthur and the seneschal were still discussing the plans for the announcement.

"We'll make it a holiday, any fines that were charged will be repaid and, 'mmm we'll open the palace cellar and serve mead to whomever wants it."

Seneschal Harold nodded. "What will you say about your sister? The people will not feel safe."

Arthur nodded. "I already know what to say about Morgana."

"Perhaps we should offer a reward for anyone providing information that leads to an arrest of someone practicing magic?"

Merlin froze and tried to pretend as if he were considering how he might word the next phrase.

He watched as Arthur nodded slowly.

"Yes." Arthur's hand strayed toward his chest where Merlin knew Gwen's ring lay but he did not quite touch it. "It is not something I ever thought I would find necessary but I think it must be so. We'll offer a reward of one gold piece to anyone with information that leads to an arrest of practitioners of magic."

The seneschal nodded. "I'll also order the preparation of necessary kindling."

Merlin felt his eyes go wide. The king had not yet lifted the ban on magic but he also hadn't actively persecuted magic thus far. The visions that had come to him as he'd knelt on the sun warmed stone of his room flooded his mind.

"Hmm yes," Arthur said absently.

Anger and guilt flushed through him making his skin hot and souring his stomach all at once. Arthur couldn't do this. If he began to actively persecuting magic-

"Water?" He said aloud as he closed his hands around the water pitcher. He needed the seneschal out of the room.

Before either man could reply Merlin went to fill the Seneschal's goblet and accidentally dumped the entire pitcher of water on the nobleman. He apologized profusely, Arthur glared and of course there was yelling but Seneschal Harold was excused. Merlin watched the nobleman stalk from the room before turning to find the king sitting with the smallest of smiles on his face.

"You clumsy, fool!" Arthur shouted in undignified rage, mimicking the seneschal perfectly before laughing. In spite of himself Merlin felt a sad little smile turn up the corners of his mouth. He had not seen Arthur smile or laugh since Elyan returned with Gwen's ring.

"That was funny Merlin." Arthur said still a little breathless from laughing

"It was an accident."

"I know. It was still funny." The smile faded from the king's face and that far away look that he wore so often returned. "Some of these will have to be rewritten."

"It won't work." Merlin said softly

"What?" Arthur looked.

"You won't make Camelot any safer by burning people at the stake. You'll just frighten them."

Arthur sat silent, lips twisting.

"I suppose so I shall." He seemed to consider that for a moment and returned to the sheaf of papers in front of him.

Merlin felt the reel of desperation. One thing he had always felt about Arthur was that he was fair. Blind, perhaps, to many things but he always tried to do what was right. It was for this Merlin served him in spite of everything. But with each day that passed since Elyan's return he'd felt that less and less. The memory of the bandit sitting on Gwen's chest choking the life out of her surged through his mind bringing with it the memory of every other person he'd hurt in his quest for this golden age.

"Arthur you can't do this."

"I can't?" The king didn't even bother looking up and Merlin felt an inner sinking

"No! I-I can't serve you while actively persecute magic users."

"What are you talking about Merlin magic users are criminals. Why should you care?"

"No Arthur magic users are people who hang charms above their door jambs to protect themselves from evil spirits. They are people like Alice* who've been forced to leave everyone they care about behind." He took a breath. "I care because it is wrong to burn them at the stake."

"Wrong?" Arthur looked at him askance. "So people like Morgana should just be free to do as they want?"

"Of course not, you know me better than that. But persecuting people like Alice because of Morgana's actions won't make Camelot any safer."

"Very well Master Mer-lin." Arthur looked back at his paperwork and Merlin felt his anger grow at the king's casual dismissal.

All these years he'd waited for that golden age, that age when Arthur would lift the ban on magic, unite Albion and yet here were his hopes sinking.

"Why, Arthur, why would you want to do this? Do you long for the smell of burnt flesh and terror in your streets? I thought you cared for the people of Camelot."

Arthur looked up at him clearly annoyed but after a moment he sighed.

"Of course I care for the people of Camelot and you know this to be true. Yes it is a cruel thing I know and expensive besides but I think it necessary. If we're shown to be soft on magic sorcerers will infiltrate our borders, prey on the people, prey on us- I can't-" Arthur paused and again his hand went to Gwen's ring. "I-I can't let Morgana do something like this again."He turned his attention to scroll on his desk signaling the subject closed.

Merlin tasted bile in the back of his throat and had to press a hand to his mouth. It was as if his life were some kind of sick joke. If not for the ban on magic that he would have told Arthur about the Shade and therefore Gwen most likely would not have been banished. He had chosen to protect Arthur rather than accompany Gwen who clearly had been in greater need. Now Gwen was dead, a victim of Morgana's sorcery and Arthur's response was to tighten the laws against the magic that might have saved her. Merlin felt tears well in his eyes.

"I'm a sorcerer Arthur I always have been." The words came out in a whisper

"What are you talking about Merlin?"

"I'm a sorcerer. I was born with magic." He said it more forcefully this time. "I can't go on like this helping you in secret, not anymore."

"Merlin are you ill?" Arthur looked at him with confusion. "Do you need a rest? Perhaps a visit to you mother?"

"I'm a sorcerer damn it!" And all of Arthur's paperwork, his quill, ink, paper weight lifted into the air and danced. Water shot out of the wet ones, the papers shuffled themselves into a neat stack and then settled back into place as if it had not happened.

"I'm a sorcerer Arthur. You'd be dead many times over if it weren't for me. I can't continue to help you or serve you if you restart the purge. I've looked the other way many times since I came to Camelot because I believed that you would be a king that would usher in Camelot's golden age and unite all the lands of Albion."

Arthur stared at him face twisted with disbelief.

Merlin groaned."Just think for a moment about it? Remember the griffin that couldn't be defeated without magic?"

Arthur nodded.

"I enchanted Lancelot's, spear made it a weapon that would slay the beast. Cornelius Sigan who would have brought all of Camelot to ruin, I was the one who stopped him. What do you think happened while you were unconscious? He just vanished."

"I-I…"

"Think about all those times when nearly everything fell apart and suddenly you woke and all was well just like magic." Merlin snapped his fingers and the chamber door opened and shut of its own accord.

Arthur did think and Merlin watched the slow realization steal over the king's face. For a moment regret stirred inside of him and Merlin pushed it aside.

"You're a sorcerer?"

"Yes."

"And you've been helping you say?"

"Yes. You should know. I knew Lancelot was a shade the morning after he arrived."

Arthur's face got that tight tense look of rage and Merlin ignored it pressing on, words coming out in a desperate rush.

"And I know where to find Morgana."

The king was completely still. His dark blue eyes staring at him, the index finger of one hand resting just above his lips. Merlin shivered and felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. There was a tenseness all about Arthur and Merlin thought of cats he'd seen stalking a mouse. He'd consider this moment over and over again and had never really determined what he should do if Arthur attempted to kill him.

The king blinked, blinked again. Merlin let out a breath.

"You know where Morgana can be found?" Arthur's words were low but Merlin heard them with perfect clarity.

"Yes."

"Then be ready to ride in two hours."

"Ride?"

"Yes. All of the secrets you've kept- you being a warlock is not resolved but you know where Morgana is and I've an oath to keep. We're going hunting."

"Two hours then." Merlin nodded slowly and strode out of the room that was when he began to shake.

* * *

><p>Arthur sat unmoving at his desk. The sounds of the courtyard –people going about their business working or talking with one and other, telling each other jokes drifted up through his open window. He heard the bells as they tolled, quarter of an hour, half an hour, quarter before the hour. He saw shadow lengthen and stretch across the floor as the sun -unseen- moved overhead so that more and more light beamed through the window behind him. Every now and again he would let out a string of curses and then fall silent.<p>

Merlin was a warlock. His mind reviewed the night Cornelius Sigan had woken to attack Camelot and bring it ruin. He could hear the terrified screams of his men around him as the gargoyles Sigan had brought to life tore them to pieces, that metallic tang of adrenaline in his mouth was a memory that surfaced far too readily, the fear- yes he had been afraid, it was a familiar companion all of these things rendered that moment crystal bright. Cornelius Sigan had been a powerful sorcerer; his magic might have been the end of Camelot in one short night. Merlin had defeated that man.

Unambitious, awkward, comical Merlin was -if he was telling the truth and Arthur had little reason to doubt him- was perhaps the most powerful man in all of Camelot.

The sun unconcerned with Arthur's woes continued its inevitable journey. He should be getting his gear together but that was Merlin's job and Merlin was a sorcerer. His father was dead, Guinevere unfairly banished and possibly dead and now Merlin was a sorcerer. The world he lived in it seemed was made sand.

Arthur got to his feet and called for his page.

"Summon the magistrate. Tell him the king requires his immediate presence."

"Yes sire." The boy bowed and headed off at a run.

He paced the length of the room. Merlin was a warlock, _a warlock_.

"Damn it!"

Merlin had been a warlock for five years and was in all likelihood too powerful a sorcerer for them to do anything about.

It would of course explain Merlin's inexplicable bravery. He kept pacing, glancing out of the window from time-to-time hoping to catch sight of Grigor striding across the courtyard. He'd started to summon Gaius but Gaius surely knew that Merlin was a warlock. That was in all probability what he had been lying about when Agravaine had questioned him. Arthur's pacing brought him back to the window and this time he did see Grigor striding across the courtyard with Efan's hand in his. A part of him wanted to run out and meet them but Arthur held himself in check. He needed to give some thought to what he would actually tell the couple. He was still weighing it when the page admitted them.

For a long moment he stood looking at them, the two of them radiating the happiness that they shared to the rest of the world. They studied him in turn. After a moment a worried frown creased Efan's brow and she let out a troubled little oh before coming to him an enveloping him. He'd never known his mother but surely Efan's embrace was everything that that should be; warm, soothing, a place of safety, protection from all the grief, from all the betrayal. He held her tight, desiring for just a moment to be a little boy whose greatest hurt was skinned knees that could be soothed with a cinnamon scented salve or a spinning top that could be mended with glue.

"Nu-nurse," it came out sort of choked and he wondered how it was that he had allowed his father to come between him and these two fine people.

"That's right I'm always your nurse."

He thought of the people he'd chosen to surround himself with. His treacherous uncle, Merlin now proven-

"I'm sorry I've been distant."

"Not your fault. And I know you got Enfys his knight's training and endorsed his marriage to Lady Amelia."

He sighed at her absolution and drew in a long deep breath.

"Thank you." After a moment he straightened and she took a step back.

"Grigor, please both of you have a seat." Arthur motioned for them to sit at the table where he sometimes received guest even as he did so himself.

"So what's happened now?" Efan's voice was warm and firm.

"Merlin, my servant, my friend, is a warlock."

Efan's blue eyes went wide and they flicked almost instantly to her husband. Grigor's only response however was to press a finger to his lips and lean back in his seat.

"You're certain?" Efan asked.

"He told me himself, gave me a demonstration with the door."

"It makes sense though," Grigor's tone was still very thoughtful.

"Pardon?"

"Too many unexplained things involving magic in recent years, too many attacks suddenly stopped and just you and Merlin on the scene. Didn't you ever wonder?" Grigor looked at him questioningly.

Arthur nodded slowly. He had in fact wanted to look into these things like the dragon or Cornelius Sagan but people were reluctant to look into victory. They'd won, they were safe. Arthur clasped his hands together and steepled his fingers. Was it possible that his father had somehow known or suspected?

"Have you arrested him?" Grigor asked.

"No. I'm not certain we can. I suspect he may be too powerful."

Grigor was a silent for a moment and then he grinned "There's always a way if you put your mind to it. Don't let yourself be defeated before you've begun. A little sleeping draught in his next meal and he wakes bound and gagged in a cell if that's what you want."

Arthur nodded. "You're right. He says he's been helping Camelot, helping me for years but he can no longer do so in secret. "

"Interesting."

"He's been a warlock all this time?" Efan questioned.

Arthur nodded.

"So why tell you now? What's changed?"

"Guinevere."

Grigor looked at him curiously.

"The first day Lancelot returned from the dead he did a test of some sort. Apparently the Lancelot we saw a shade, a thing made up by Morgana, tied to the real Lancelot somehow but not Lancelot." Arthur felt his hands clench into fist. Gwen and Lancelot both forced against him.

Grigor leaned forward now, eyes narrow.

"He knew magic was involved from the beginning?"

Arthur found himself nodding reluctantly.

"And he didn't tell you because of how he knew?"

"Yes."

"But I still don't understand, why come forward now. Both Gwen and Lancelot's reputation are restored. What's changed?" Efan asked that last question again.

Grigor got to his feet and started pacing.

"You've just called this man your friend but he kept something like this from you?"

Arthur felt himself start to relax a bit.

"Doesn't sound very friendly to me."

He was silent and not at all certain how he wanted to respond. Grigor paced to the window.

"So now you have a decision to make." Efan recalled his attention.

"Yes and he knows where Morgana is. I've ordered him to take me to her we're going to deal with Morgana once and for all."

Efan's eyebrow's jumped towards her hairline.

"Just the two of you?"

"I hadn't considered taking anyone else?"

Grigor paced back to the table and took his seat.

"Is that wise?"

"I don't know. We have to take the opportunity to deal with Morgana but I can't make a decision about magic in such a short span of time. So if I am going to do it now it has to be just he and I. But can I trust him?"

"You've already decided to go so you must trust him."

Arthur stared at the other man for a moment.

"Perhaps but should I?"

"Trust him you mean?" Grigor glanced from him to Efan and back."You don't want to trust him now because he doesn't make sense. People always make sense in their own minds. When they don't make sense it's because you don't have all the information. I think you can trust Merlin with your life. Even from the outside it's clear that he has been helping _you_."

"Oh. What about other things?"

"I think he's a piece of shit. Anyone who lets a young woman get sent out away from her home, her friends, her family and safety when they have evidence that contradicts her guilt is a piece of shit."

"It was a harsh punishment to begin with." Efan said and Arthur could hear the chastisement in her voice.

"What was I supposed to do? I'm king. I showed her the mercy that I could. It wasn't simply that she appeared to betray me it was the public manner, the night before we were to be married. I couldn't have married her and I couldn't have ignored it either."

"Of course not," Efan agreed and Arthur saw Grigor smirk just a bit as he watched the two of them.

"So what then?"

"Well what do you think?"

He hated it when she did that. He almost considered telling her so but felt still more childish.

"I'm king and only in my first year at that." He said levelly. "Other nations are watching me, looking for any sign of weakness, deciding if they will attack Camelot, encroach upon our borders, and enslave our people. If the leaders of any nations take it as weakness then it will not be only my life that is affected." He sighed. "If it were simply my life and reputation I might've- it's tens of thousands of lives. I could not let myself be perceived as weak."

"I don't deny any of this but what you hoped would not have happened seems to have happened anyway."

He sighed and she clasped his hand. He'd let his uncle goad him into acting before he was ready that had been the true error. He could have kept her confined for a while longer, sent her someplace rather than banishing her from her home as if he could banish her from his heart and her apparent treachery from his memory.

"You have given me much to think on nurse."

"Good."

Arthur's thoughts slipped back to Merlin.

"How do I know he's not in league with Morgana?"

Grigor actually laughed then.

"Because he would have killed you by now." The older man laughed again and Arthur and Efan watched him for a moment. Grigor had the habit of laughing at the most inappropriate things. "You need information," Grigor said when he finished. "You need someone that can tease the truth out of lies and make liars tell the truth. Send for him, let me interview him."

Arthur nodded slowly and rang for his page.

"Nurse," Arthur looked at her, "you're staying?"

"Absolutely."

* * *

><p>Grigor studied Merlin a moment before speaking. He looked less a boy and more a man than when he'd first come to Camelot. That Merlin was loyal to Arthur Grigor believed wholeheartedly. Whether or not Merlin was loyal to Camelot or its people, what loyalty to Arthur meant were blanks that he wanted to fill in.<p>

"Well come in, don't be shy." The young man looked askance and Grigor grinned his most fearsome smile. In spite of the weight of the situation he was going to enjoy this, he always did.

Merlin did not stride into the room but sidled past as if it were very important that he keep his eyes on him. Yes he was going to enjoy this. Grigor let the door shut with a loud thud and shared a wink with Efan as Merlin's shoulders rose. Not quite as strong a reaction as he had expected, perhaps there was something to his boast.  
>Grigor strode over to Merlin and put an arm round his shoulders.<p>

"Have a seat."

Merlin did just that trying desperately to catch the king's eye. When he finally did Grigor saw him shrink from the cool glare that Arthur threw at him.

"So Merlin," Grigor clapped a hand down on his shoulder and applied just enough pressure to make the other man slightly uncomfortable before taking his seat. "I understand that you're a wizard." He leaned back comfortably in his chair. "In fact you've saved the king's life several times I understand. Now that interests me because magic is banned, magic users are persecuted here in Camelot. I don't understand why a warlock would want to help Camelot as you claim to have been doing for years." He paused "But I want to understand. So I'm going to ask you some questions, try to answer truthfully for once in your life."

Anger flared in the young wizard's eyes on the last.

"That make you angry Merlin?" Grigor leaned forward in his seat. "You know what makes me angry Merlin? When citizens of this kingdom are tried for crimes and people with evidence that might affect the outcome of those trials withhold it to protect their own skins, their own secrets. That makes me angry." He held Merlin's eyes until the younger man had the decency to look away. "Merlin you've got no reason to lie. The king thinks you're too powerful a sorcerer for us to arrest you and perhaps that's true. From what he has told me even if we were to arrest you could escape rather easily if you put your mind to it. So you've no real reason to lie to us. You wanna know how I see it?"

Merlin sighed. "How?"

"If you want to stay here in Camelot –and after six years I assume you do—then you need to tell the truth. Your answers are the ones that will help decide what happens next, decide if there's another purge."

He watched hope flicker very briefly in the other man's eyes.

"Either way you're not affected so for once in your life Merlin try to tell the truth."

"I shall." Merlin said resting his open hands palm down on the table.

Grigor weighed his first question still not altogether certain where to begin.

"How long have you known about Morgana?" Arthur asked and Grigor repressed a frown.

"You mean where she is?"

Arthur eyes widened and he got that tight, tense look on his face.

"Yes."

"Um, several months."

The king's lips tightened into a long thin line.

"And you didn't tell us. Why?" Grigor asked.

"Because my reason for knowing doesn't make any sense without you knowing I have magic."

"And what is that reason Merlin?" He was genuinely curious, a similar curiosity was reflected in the faces of both Arthur and Efan.

The sorcerer studied the table and his face grew pale.

"When we got separated a few months ago Morgana found me and she uh she t- she put a snake thing, a femorah it's called in the back of my neck to force me to kill Arthur."

The three of them stared at him silently and Grigor noticed that Merlin's long thin fingers were trembling just a bit.

"Is anyone else aware of this?" He asked softly.

"Just Gaius and Gwen. Gwen doesn't know about the magic but she is awfully fearsome with pot." Merlin rubbed the back of his neck. "She's really very clever Gwen is. She's the one that figured it all out." Merlin tried to muster a sad smile and fell silent as the king glared at him.

"So you were successful obviously but were unable to share this information?"

Merlin nodded.

Arthur didn't say anything but he looked perhaps less angry.

"So uh Merlin why did you come to Camelot? I mean you knew magic was illegal here didn't you? So why come?"

"My mother sent me."

Grigor stroked his chin for a moment.

"You said you've always had magic."

Merlin nodded.

"Was your magic a secret from your mother as well?"

"No."

"So you've always had magic and your mother sends you to a kingdom where magic users are killed on sight." Grigor drew out those last words weighing them as he said them knowing how they might provoke the younger man. "That doesn't make any sense Merlin."

The warlock's face flushed with anger and he ducked his head a moment. When he raised it Grigor saw gold flickering through Merlin's eyes. He drew in a breath leaning backwards, waiting. This was what he needed to know about Merlin. The sorcerer looked away for a breath and looked back, the flames died.

"I do a lot of good here." Merlin pointed at Arthur, "There wouldn't be a king here if my mother hadn't sent me to Camelot, and you should thank her you should all thank her."

The table went silent and even Grigor found himself not certain where he wanted to take the conversation next. The bells tolled the hour and still they were silent. Efan met his eyes and he gave her a small nod.

"Merlin why did you come forward now? Lancelot and Guinevere's reputations will be restored with full honors why bring this up?" Efan asked.

Merlin shot a glance at the king and pressed his lips together. Arthur who was looking thoughtfully at Efan didn't see it but Grigor saw it.

"It's really the mo-"

Grigor gave his wife's arm a gentle squeeze and she dropped it.

"Sire perhaps Merlin and I should go for a little walk. Sometimes when people are with their friends they don't share so easily." He stood as he said and looked patiently at the king.

Arthur seemed surprised by this statement but nodded his assent.

"Come on Merlin. Don't be shy," he grinned and winked at the other man "I don't bite."

"Go with him," Arthur said and Merlin got to his feet.

* * *

><p>Grigor took a long look at Merlin before starting down the hall. They hadn't far to go just a short twenty paces to the royal nursery. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the younger man following behind, pale face grim and determined. He had of course a few thoughts about why the other man might have come forward and Merlin would not share that information in the king's presence. He stopped in front of the nursery door waiting for Merlin. When the younger man was standing beside him Grigor pushed the heavy door open.<p>

A twilight gloom lit the room; in the dark its furnishings were just large lumpy shapes. Grigor went to the windows on the far wall and pulled open heavy blue velvet drapes. Sunlight flooded the room revealing furniture draped in linen and canvass and dust motes danced at their intrusion.

"Where are we?"

"Royal nursery."

"Oh."

"I figured it would give us a nice private a place to sit and talk. What is it that you don't want Arthur to know?" Grigor flipped up a corner of the dust cloth on a padded bench.

"Nothing."

"Come on Merlin," he smiled and sat down, "share. Surely this fiasco with Gwen, the bracelet and Shadalot should've taught you that you can't do it all alone, no matter how powerful you are."

Merlin frowned.

"That's right, magic can't fix everything. It's just one tool amongst many."

Still Merlin held his peace.

"The king spent his boyhood in these rooms." Grigor rose and paced to a cabinet built into the wal. "They've been empty for over a decade now." He pulled the cabinet open to reveal children's toys, a rocking horse, toy sword, spinning top, a stuffed bear. He picked up the top crouched and set it spinning.

"You'd think a sword would have been his favorite toy, but nope this." Grigor stopped the top spinning with his toe-tip, put the top back in the cabinet. He looked back at Merlin. "King Uther was a very jealous parent. I still remember the last time Arthur visited our home. He was fifteen. I reminded him of his duty, told him he'd be a better king than his father, that the people would need a king who might prefer the company of commoners to nobles and sent him back."

Merlin was watching him intently now.

"After six years why did you decide to tell him _now_? Why not sooner surely you had opportunities?"Grigor returned to his seat.

"Magic is illegal."

"Yes and here we are having this chat and that has yet to change."

"I did tell him once. I told everyone once, no one believed me."

"Truly, what happened?" Grigor crossed his arms and listened as Merlin told him about Gwen being accused of witchcraft, because of magic he had used. About how he'd interrupted a meeting with Uther and his council to a declare himself a sorcerer and prove Gwen's innocence.

"So there was a time when you were an honest man? When you cared about something other than your self-imposed duty?"

Merlin glared at him and Grigor chuckled.

"Don't be mad Merlin. We both want to protect Camelot and Arthur," Grigor said. "You do that with your magic, and I do it this way, by asking questions and trying to see into people's hearts. Learn what type of person they are."

Merlin sat down now and rested his hands on his knees.

"And what type of person, am I?" The wizard asked the question and shifted his glance away as if he feared the answer.

"A foolish, desperate young man that has put all of his eggs in one basket," Grigor said.

Merlin swallowed and looked back.

"Foolish and desperate?"

"Yeah you've lost yourself and you don't know what to do about it."

Merlin held his eyes briefly before looking away again.

Grigor studied the red and blue tile floor trying to make out the pattern under layers of dust. He'd made a handful visits to the royal nursery after the marriage between himself and Efan had been arranged. The nursery had two rooms, inner and outer. The first time he'd spoken with Efan here Prince Arthur had stood in the door way of the inner room watching the two of them talking expression silent and inscrutable as children could often be. Arthur had changed grown and yet he had changed so little. He looked at Merlin again frowning. Perhaps Merlin hadn't changed so very much either.

He got up again and went to the rocking chair still positioned to face the window, pulled the dust cloth so that it slid to the floor. He looked over his shoulder at Merlin and saw the other man was watching him intently.

"I had one carved like this for Efan. I saw them sitting here one afternoon," Grigor caressed the sun warmed wood, "she was telling him a story and it was such a perfect moment. I had to have one for her use in our nursery. I imagine Gwen would have enjoyed using this." He put the dust cloth back in place and faced the younger man.

There was a pained look in Merlin's eyes and Grigor felt some satisfaction at that. He was getting to him.

"It's Gwen isn't?"

"What?" Merlin looked at him eyes slightly wide.

"You've learnt something new about Gwen. Probably that she's dead."

"No."

"Yes, I think that must be it. Being banished might have been bad, unfortunate, but in and of itself not so urgent. You could always fix everything at your own convenience. If she's dead…she was your friend, you cared for her and now through some use of your magic, you've found out that your friend is dead."

"No! You're wrong." There was the vaguest hint of a quaver in Merlin's voice.

Grigor ignored him and kept talking.

"It's the guilt, right. All you had to do was say something, one word and she'd be here right now but you couldn't, or you felt that you couldn't because, magic is punishable by death. The Greeks call that irony Merlin." Grigor smiled a bit. "The unexpected outcome, the king's happiness could have been protected by the thing he's been taught to hate."

He moved to stand in front of Merlin.

"I'll wager that Arthur is thinking of restarting the purge? That's it, isn't? You're his personal servant, you would know before anyone else and you can't serve him if he is actively persecuting magic users, can you Merlin?"

Merlin didn't say anything but Grigor could see the tremor in every line of his posture the misery plain in his face.

"Tell me."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

He stared at Merlin, another theory about the other man's motivations slowly coming to him.

"Very well, I'll tell the king what I think."

"You wouldn't."

"I would, test me. I'm going right down the hall and tell him."

Grigor turned on his heel and walked to the nursery door opening it only to have it wrenched from his hand and slammed shut.

"Well." He said turning to face other man.

"I don't know for certain." Merlin had gotten to his feet, face ghostly pale now his words rushed and desperate. "I summoned a vision. I saw her being attacked but I didn't see to the end. I can't imagine that she could have survived but I don't know for certain. We can't tell him as long as we don't know." There was a pleading in Merlin's voice.

Grigor stroked his chin thinking. He wasn't going to lie to the king about this. No matter how it might hurt. People learned and grew from their suffering; it was protecting them that made them weak.

"This isn't the kind of thing he should be protected from Merlin."

"What?" The younger man's eyes went wide.

"This shouldn't be hidden."

"But," the younger man's voice was bewildered, "I don't know for certain."

"How did you get this information?"

"In a vision. I wanted to know what happened with Gwen and the bandit. It took me a few weeks, I finally called a vision and I got interrupted."

"So summon it again."

"I-I don't think I can. You can't be filled with guilt or grief. You're emotions have to be, calm."

"Ahh, well Merlin. I'm gonna help with guilt part of this. I think you and Arthur should go and deal with Morgana if you can. So you may as well finish packing and once you've dealt with Morgana, I want you to tell the king what you saw. If you come back and you haven't told him I will." Grigor settled his hands on his hips to make his point.

The two men stared at one and other for a moment and it occurred to Grigor that there might be some danger in staring down a sorcerer but he meant exactly what he'd said.

"I don't know how you've made the choices that you've made thus far, but I have a feeling that a lot of your choices didn't go to plan."

"You don't know that," Merlin denied.

"Did you plan for Gwen to be dead?"Grigor challenged.

Merlin ducked his head.

"It's time you start doing the right thing Merlin," he paused, "and this is the right thing to do, regardless of how difficult it might be tell him."

The wizard nodded at last.

"I will."

"Good."

* * *

><p>"I miss her nurse, I miss her so much-" Arthur looked up as Grigor walked in. Efan gave him an encouraging smile and rubbed his arm gently.<p>

"Sire," Grigor bowed and Arthur motioned for him to have a seat. The older man looked rather solemn, he studied them a moment before taking his seat.

"Where is Merlin?" Arthur asked.

"I took the liberty of sending him to finish his preparations for the trip."

"I see and you don't think I should take anyone else?"He was a bit surprised that Grigor wasn't urging him to take an entire cadre of knights.

"Well that's your choice. Frankly, I think perhaps you should wait a day or two, get some rest before you go."

"No," Arthur shook his head. "As long as Morgana is alive she's a threat to this kingdom, and all of its people. More than that though, I can't openly search for Guinevere without endangering her, not while Morgana lives. If Guinevere has found some safe place- or if her circumstances are not so safe I can't bring her anymore hardship; Gwen can't come home while Morgana is alive. The sooner she is dealt with the better. I swore that oath to myself and I mean to keep it."

He saw Grigor's nostrils flare but the older man nodded.

"Well at least take some of your knights with you," Efan suggested.

Arthur shook his head.

"No. I don't yet know what my next steps are. For the moment the fewer people that know about Merlin the better." Arthur shifted his attention back to the magistrate. "Grigor what is your recommendation, aside from the trip I mean?"

"For one reason or another he has taken on the roll of protecting you, it's his priority. Everything else is secondary. He's a bit like a guard dog that way."

Arthur saw Efan look at her husband in surprise.

"Grigor," there was a hint of chastisement in her tone.

"He is. Deny it. Consider everything you've seen and say he's not like a guard dog." Grigor challenged her.

"That's still a mean thing to say." Efan chided.

"He's moved up from piece of shit."

Efan rolled her eyes.

Arthur cleared his throat.

"Sorry. What I was getting at is that he is very loyal to you sire, but I doubt he can be relied upon in any other capacity. Some of it, I am sure is due to the necessity of him keeping his secrets, that may change with time."

Arthur considered the knights and how they worked together guarding one and other's backs. Gwen understood that.

"Thank you Grigor, thank you both," Arthur said.

"It was my pleasure," the Magistrate said with a grin.

"I'm sure," he said drily.

Grigor rose and Arthur did the same.

"Grigor, there is one more thing I have to ask of you. Morgana is a dangerous foe. Please make the truth known." He thought briefly of Sarah Goode's confusion before she knew the truth behind her affair. "And please make certain Guinevere knows it."

"I will," Grigor bowed and gave his wife a quick kiss on the cheek before leaving.

"Nurse?" Arthur looked at her questioningly.

"I can stay and help you get packed," she smiled at him. "I don't have any little babies anymore."

"Thank you." He felt himself smiling. "You can tell me how Enfys and Amelia are."

* * *

><p>Arthur looked up at the sun. Only an hour past noon and yet the weight of a full day already bowed his shoulders. As a child the time between birthdays, holidays, tournaments and feasts had moved far too slowly. Hours crawled by as his active childish mind sought the means to fill them while anticipated days passed with lightning speed. He understood all too well now the adults that had told him not be in a hurry to grow-up. Not to be in a hurry to enter a world where hours fled with the rapidity of minutes, draining him and exhausting him as if in one morning he'd lived a week.<p>

He surveyed the palace courtyard. Sunlight bounced with near blinding brightness off the white stones of the palace, while the residents and servants of the court waited patiently for the king's departure to return to their business. Gwaine and Merlin were having some whispered conversation. Gwaine came from it looking frustrated and Merlin looking grimmer than ever.

Arthur looked to the grand staircase and the great wooden doors through which he had just come.

How many times had Gwen stood at the palace entrance to wish him farewell or welcome him home? When he and Merlin had ridden to slay the dragon uncertain of whether or not they would return he had not thought much of what a welcome home might mean. Gwen had come shooting out of the palace from nowhere it had seemed. Her relief at his return palpable. She'd thrown herself into his arms and he'd caught her without thinking, welcoming her weight and softness and the sweet, floral fragrances that oft clung to her.

The memory of the scent stayed with him along with the stories she'd told him about her mother gathering the magnolia petals from the palace gardens when Uther permitted. They'd used the petals to fragrance water, make perfumes, and decorate their homes. As an adult Gwen did the same except Arthur had told her to take the full blossoms from the trees and as much and as often as she liked.

He'd never given much thought to what a welcome home like that might mean until he had one. That reassurance of her love for him, the idea that she had been waiting for him, worrying during his entire absence. He would miss it now.

"Sire?" Leon recalled his attention to the present.

"Sorry Leon." Arthur finished giving Leon the last of his instructions. If all went well he expected to be gone for no more than a week. When he'd finished the senior knight took as step back and Arthur mounted his horse. He looked over his shoulder and saw Guinevere standing in the shadows of the door way wearing not her purple linen dress but her simple servant dress with that bodice that she had embroidered with her own hands, her favorite dress, the dress she'd been wearing the first time he'd kissed her. She lifted her hand and waved at him.

Arthur felt a smile bloom across his face. He knew Guinevere could not be there smiling, waving, seeing him off. She was out, somewhere in the world and he hoped and prayed with every fiber of his being that she was well and safe. Yet he had not seen her face in his mind since Elyan had brought back her ring. She had not appeared in his dream of his beloved dead and even in his dreams where he longed to see her, hold her, her face, her image was denied to him. Yet here, now she was, as if blessing his mission.

"Sire?"

Arthur turned at Merlin's query. The other man sat tense and pale on his horse, his brows knitted together in concern.

"What?"

"Nothing you, just looked very happy all of a sudden?"

He shook his head and looked back but she was gone, a shadow lost in shadows. Arthur took a deep breath.

"Let's go."

* * *

><p>So this chapter was really long, sorry I know reading at the computer can be tiresome but I could not think of any place to split it without weakening either part. Some of these events might seem ironic in light of the last few episodes but I'd been planning some Morgana POV and Merlin's magic reveal for some time now. As always I hope you all enjoyed reading and I hope you will leave some feed back in your comments and reviews. Next chapter we are back in Wyeledon for Gwen and friends and as always I have a few notes for you.<p>

episodes cited in order are: 4x9,1x1,1x11,2x7,2x8,4x3, and 4x9 again.

I only mentioned Arthur's father being killed by magic because he was told everything he learned about his mother's death in 2x8x was not true. So that is how I am handling this. I know that Arthur's lines with Merlin in 4x3 implies otherwise but that is altered to make more sense to me in this AU. Of course everyone outside of Camelot knows that's not the case.


	17. The Exile Chapter: Making a Miracle

**The Exile Part II, Chapter XVII, Making a Miracle**

**Hi everyone, Merry Christmas I have an early Christmas present for you. Hopefully this chapter will put you in a good mood. I recommend saving this until after the Merlin finale as it all my beta readers have finished it with a happy smile and its just a sort of feel good chapter. For a very little while all is right with the world. Don't forget to read the end notes I have a special treat for you all at the end and don't forget to give me the gift of you comments and reviews.  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong><em>Previously in The Exile<em>****  
><strong>

_**Chapter 14, Of Families, Friends and Magic Guinevere and Ylsa argue as Guinevere realizes that Ylsa is a witch**_

_For a moment Gwen considered dropping the subject all together. After all, they had been neither robbed nor hurt, but "magic is evil, magic corrupts". She thought about Morgana, the way the other woman had changed. She thought of Morgana using her power against them and felt her stomach twist with tension and fear. Gwen started walking and caught up to the other woman._

_"You made him sick," she accused. If she was living with a magic user she needed to know._

_"And how would I do something like that?" Ylsa crossed her arms; dark eyes wide and waiting._

_Gwen swallowed not wanting to speak but remembering how she erred with Morgana, ignored the signs._

_"With magic," the words came out in a harsh whisper._

_**Chapter 16 Aftermath, Merlin and Arthur **_

_"Of course I care for the people of Camelot and you know this to be true. Yes it is a cruel thing I know and expensive besides but I think it necessary. If we're shown to be soft on magic sorcerers will infiltrate our borders, prey on the people, prey on us- I can't-" Arthur paused and again his hand went to Gwen's ring. "I-I can't let Morgana do something like this again."He turned his attention to scroll on his desk signaling the subject closed._

_Merlin tasted bile in the back of his throat and had to press a hand to his mouth. It was as if his life were some kind of sick joke. If not for the ban on magic that he would have told Arthur about the Shade and therefore Gwen most likely would not have been banished. He had chosen to protect Arthur rather than accompany Gwen who clearly had been in greater need. Now Gwen was dead, a victim of Morgana's sorcery and Arthur's response was to tighten the laws against the magic that might have saved her. Merlin felt tears well in his eyes._

_"I'm a sorcerer Arthur I always have been." The words came out in a whisper_

* * *

><p>Father Flaejer pulled on his braies*, cinching them at the waist and followed that with his hose and tunic, a concession to Beatriz's insistence that he get dressed. He considered pulling on his cassock but chose instead to drape it over the back over the chair positioned under her bedroom window.<p>

Though they had iibeen lovers* for some time now this was the first time he'd come by in the afternoon for anything other than lunch.

He surveyed her room a moment- white plaster walls, the floor covered with the same blue and white tile as the rest of the second floor rooms, expensive rug and a large four poster bed. He wondered briefly if the bed had come with the townhouse or if she'd brought it herself? A moment later Father Fleajer heard her familiar tread on the stairs. He went to the door and pulled it open just a crack. He peered into the hall making certain it was her. He did not want to be seen by one of the girls if he was mistaken.

After a moment he saw Beatriz carrying a well laden tray, her dark hair loose about her shoulders, deep blue dressing gown rippling with every step. He took the tray from her hands as soon as she reached the door.

They exchanged a quick kiss and she went to the lounge. He nudged the door shut with his toe and joined her on the lounge a moment later.

The lunch tray was heavy with cold chicken, stewed fruit, roast tubers and bread slathered in butter and gooseberry jam. They settled it betwixt them, flirting as they shared lunch. Beatriz stoking his ankle with her toes, their hands brushing as they reached for bread or a drumstick, from time to time his pale grey eyes met her dark ones. It was as they were finishing that she glanced again at his cassock.

"You should probably put that on; Jenafere has been coming in at about this time." She started braiding her silver threaded black hair breast rising as she lifted her hands over her head.

"Well she won't today."

"Oh no?"

"No she is volunteering at the infirmary."

"Oh."

She seemed surprised.

"She has been there every morning for the past three days trying to get an interview with Pradeep or helping out in the hostel. I mentioned that Pradeep might be hiring an assistant and she seemed determined that it be her."

"Hmmm," Beatriz's expression was thoughtful. "If Pradeep hires her we may have to take her into her confidence."

"I believe she can be relied upon. She does not seem to be one easily swayed when she believes she is right."

She shook her head.

"No she is not at that. She walked here from Camelot by her lonesome."

Beatriz smiled slightly and he detected admiration in her tone.

"She's refused to take the Maid's job. Paid her rent in gold, says she has more than enough. You wouldn't think it given how thrifty she has been."

"Smart to be thrifty when you've no income."

"Yes." Her smile broadened and he smiled back. "Then perhaps we should recommend her for the position."

"I think someone has a new foster daughter," He teased.

"Perhaps," her smile faded. "Her attitude towards magic leaves much to be desired."

He shrugged. "Kerenza came round and I can see quite clearly that you like Jenafere. She has all the qualities that you'd want in daughter of your own."

He watched her carefully thinking of the marks of childbearing that marred her abdomen. She'd never mentioned a child or husband but that didn't stop his curiosity.

"I have Ylsa," she said and folded her hands primly in her lap.

"Bea," he paused. "Have you ever been married?"

She snorted. "Would _you_ have me for a wife?" Her dark eyes challenged him.

She wasn't serious but he leaned toward her, challenge in his grey eyes.

"Would you welcome a proposal?"

She held his eyes.

"You know my thoughts on marriage."

"I know." He leaned back with a sigh.

"Besides," she got to her feet tightening the belt of her dressing gown. "I can't move a man into a boarding house for single girls."

"Ylsa and Kerenza are more than ready to take over this place if you wanted."

She snorted again and walked past him. He let his gaze linger on her swaying hips as she moved passed the lounge her dressing gown rippling with each step.

"Kerenza perhaps but Ylsa is still rather youthful regarding certain of her pleasures. She wouldn't be able to resist letting her gentlemen sleep here overnight."

"I sleep here occasionally."

"Very rarely," Beatriz said dryly. "Come look at this."

He moved to stand behind her and rubbed her shoulders.

"What does that look like to you?"

She pointed at a very young and lost looking woman walking down the street.

"A lamb," he said with a sigh.

"Yes and those look more like wolves then shepherds." He spotted Ralph and Fin two known procurers walking down the street not far behind the woman. He swore under his breath and snatched his cassock, pulling it on as he hurried down the stairs. By the time he stepped outside the trio had passed the townhouse, both men were walking on either side of the girl.

"Damn!" He swore, jogged down the street and passed the trio.

"Sirs." He faced them walking backwards. "Miss."

He gave the woman a nod, and seeing her up close realized that she was much more girl than woman. She bore the same coloring as a collection of deep bronze Greek statues he'd seen once, her hair was close cropped and though she had height her body had the awkwardness of a girl still growing into womanhood. She was strikingly beautiful, bronze skin gleaming and perfect. No wonder they were willing to risk snatching her off the street in front of the townhouse.

"Father," Ralf, the taller one said.

"I'm going to come to the point. You did not truly believe that you could take this child right in front of the townhouse did you?"

"Go away priest this is no concern of yours." The shorter one's hand hovered over the hilt of his dagger.

"These men are taking you to a house of prostitution child."

The girl's eyes widened and she froze. The short one grabbed her then and pressed his knife to her ribs.

"You don't have the poodle with you priest."

The girl gasped and Father Flaejer felt a little of his tension ease as Ms. Alfonsa and Luisa came up behind the two men. He assumed that both women were armed.

"I'll be sure to tell Adras you called her a poodle Ralf. Now just let the child go, hmm?"

"That's right it's the two of you that are outnumbered now." Luisa added.

"Meebe you should just call that midwife of yours." Ralf grinned and shoved the girl right into Father Flaejer's arms.

The two men took off down the street. It took the growing stain of red down the back of the girl's dress for them to realize what Ralf meant by his last comment.

* * *

><p>"Damn it all to hell!"<p>

Guinevere's eyes widened as the curse rang through the townhouse. She glanced at Synove who merely grimaced. A moment later Adras charged into the foyer face red with rage dark eyes flashing like lightning. She saw them and froze.

"Jenafere," she nodded a greeting and straightened her jerkin. "Synove pardon this rude greeting ladies but I must depart." Adras flipped her hair in a move so Gwaine-like that had the moment not been so tense and serious Gwen might have laughed. She strode from the townhouse and Gwen turned to Synove.

"What has happened?"

"Why don't we go sit down in the dining room?"

"The dining room? Okay," Gwen said wondering why they weren't going into the parlor. Synove took her arm and Gwen followed her into the dining room without protest.

Ylsa was already seated at the table plate piled high with food in front of her. She tore a strip of chicken from a drumstick and shoved it into her mouth along with a small tomato.

"Is that enough?" Synove asked and Ylsa nodded her response without looking up.

"What's going on?"

"Have a seat." Synove's voice was soft but firm her usual lighthearted demeanor gone.

"Very well," Gwen sat down. "Now what is going on?"

"Some procurers tried to take a girl from in front of the townhouse today."

"What?" Gwen looked from Synove to Ylsa and back again not understanding what this had to do with the strange mood of the house.

"I don't think anyone has told her about the procurers," Ylsa said as she broke a chunk of cheese in half.

"I suppose they didn't have procurers in Camelot." Synove said.

"People who obtain goods and services we had that in Camelot." Gwen said growing impatient.

"In Wyeledon it means a person, mostly men, who obtain women for brothels."

"Obtain?" Gwen asked.

"By force." Ylsa coughed and kept eating.

"By force?"

"Yes," Synove said.

"They force people to do that?" Gwen asked. She had no idea how one became a prostitute but the idea that someone might be forced to do so…

Ylsa looked up from her food and took a breath.

"It is a problem of Wyeledon. There is a steady stream of immigrants here and many of them are young women, unmarried looking for jobs. They come from small villages or simple uncomplicated kingdoms with no idea of the dangers that this city poses. With no friends or family and complete ignorance of the city itself it is far too easy to sweep them into brothels and keep them there."

Gwen shivered recalling how easily she had trusted Father Flaejer. She could not imagine him or the nuns at the church as procurers but she had come to Ms. Alfonsa's with no hesitation. What if instead of finding a church some friendly face had offered her shelter? Cold, half-starved, weak with hunger she might have accepted it.

"You said some tried?" She looked back to Synove.

"Yes Father Flaejer, Ms. Alfonsa and Luisa stopped them but," Synove paused, "the girl was stabbed. When they realized they could not keep their prize they decided she should be deprived of her life."

Gwen noticed Synove's hands balled into tight fist on her knees. She looked at Ylsa stuffing food into her mouth as if she did not notice its taste or flavor and her hands were shaking.

"I- is the young woman okay?"

Ylsa nodded and looked at Synove.

"She'll need some nursing for a while but she will be well."

"Where is she now?" Gwen felt a bit of relief.

"In the parlor, Kerenza is with her."

"What will happen now?"

"We'll look after her here until she is well enough to go the hostel. Father Flaejer and nuns will help her find a place, work if she wants, or help get her back to her family. It will be her decision. "

"That's good but what about these procurers?" Gwen asked.

"She's not important," Ylsa said and Gwen could hear the anger and bitterness in her words.

"What do you mean?"

"She has no money, no connections and no family," Synove added. "Nothing will be done."

Gwen's mouth worked for a moment as she tried to form words.

"What do you mean? They just stab people in the street here!" Gwen got to her feet. "Just stab them. I understand she has no connections but you don't just go around stabbing people in the streets!" She knew that the life of a peasant was not equal to the life of a noble or someone with royal blood but this type of abuse was perpetrated by lords on country estates. Not by filth in front of the whole world.

"Oh enough people saw it that they will do something probably fine their employers but that's it." Ylsa rolled her eyes.

Guinevere rubbed her forehead with both hands trying to think. Part of her wanted to find a sword and…

"That is all? But surely something more will be done. Adras is wealthy and she seemed upset."

"Adras is wealthy and powerful and yes she was upset but not enough people like her agree with us and the brothels bring in so much money," Synove said emphatically.

"If I'd have been too late then we'd have something more to fight for," Ylsa said. "But I prefer this way."

Gwen's breath came out in an outraged gasp and she tried to understand what her friends were telling her. Camelot was far from perfect but there were laws and they were followed. Even Uther had followed his own laws no matter how unjust they might have been.

"But surely there are laws. They can't simply force women into brothels and murder them in the streets when they refuse."

"Yes if you have family and friends to fight for you or if you are a known citizen then the laws will protect you but remember these women are unknown immigrants. The senate simply looks the other way."

"But that's, but- if I were que-" Guinevere stopped herself.

"It is an outrage," Synove said. Guinevere didn't see Ylsa watching her with sudden interest.

"Isn't there anything?" Gwen asked thinking of women forced to service men for, for their whole long lives.

"Ms. Alfonsa, Adras and Father Flaejer minister to the girls that walk the street, find out where their families are and in sometimes smuggle them out of the city." Synove replied,

"Oh." She felt a little bit of relief there was something being done but still-

"Its very dangerous. Father Flaejer has been stabbed more than once."

"Oh. Do you two help?"

"We make friends with wealthy wives try to bring them round to our side of things." Synove smiled brightly.

"You do?"

Ylsa nodded. "A normal midwife that spent so much time with the poor would not also have clients among the wealthy but I do. Slowly, slowly we will get the laws changed."

Gwen remembered Adras' statement that relationships were being developed between Camelot and Wyeledon. If Arthur ever did come to Camelot perhaps she could somehow make Arthur aware of this. He was a better a man than these senators and even if he no longer cared for her he would do something about this.

"I'm going to see if Kerenza needs anything." Synove got to her feet. "Are you okay Ylsa?"

Ylsa nodded and Synove left.

Guinevere sat wringing her hands. Wyeledon had seemed such a perfect place. A place where she could start over, see the world anew. She thought of Ylsa, Synove, Kerenza, Ms. Alfonsa and Adras. Before Morgana had turned against them she had been something of an exception to the lot of women in Camelot. Here in Wyeledon it seemed commonplace and yet side-by-side where women were happier and freer than she'd ever known and they were also enslaved and ground down more than she'd ever known.

"Jen have you ever assisted in a lying-in?"

"What?" Gwen asked her mind still trying to absorb what Ylsa and Synove had told her.

"Have you participated in a lying-in?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry I know your mind is still with the girl but I've been thinking to ask for your help with a delivery for a while."

"Oh,um…" She took a moment to gather her thoughts. "Often actually, the midwives liked my help because I remained calm. That's part of the reason I became interested in medicine."

Ylsa smiled. "Good, any difficult deliveries?"

"I've observed a few and I have helped with direction. Once I even had guide a foal that had gotten its shoulder stuck. It was very strange."Gwen though back on the experience of slipping her arm into the mare's birth canal.

"That's perfect Jen," Ylsa paused. "I know you are still struggling with the fact that I am a magic user."

Gwen opened her mouth to try and say something reassuring but nothing came to mind.

"You've said you've only seen magic do evil, why not see it do some good?"

"What?"

"I have a delivery that will be sometime within the next week. It will be difficult and I will need the help of someone practical and focused such as yourself."

"Difficult how?" She asked no little intrigued.

"Three at one birth."

Gwen felt her eyes grow wide; she'd never seen safe delivery of such.

"I-I don't know." She bit her bottom lip filled with nerves at the thought of three babies and magic.

"I do have two other midwives helping me however a level head is always needed. You still want to be my friend, come with me. "

She nodded; this was true.

"It is only fair for you to see my side of it."

"You think you can deliver them safely?" Her curiosity about such a birthing was great and she did like Ylsa in spite of the magic.

"Oh I shall." Ylsa said unable to resist the confident smile growing on her face. "I've already got them to go to term."

"Truly?" Gwen asked intrigued in spite of herself.

"Indeed."

"But how?"

"Come and see for yourself."

Ylsa shoved her empty plate away and cleaned her fingers with a napkin.

"Very well then stay close to the townhouse for the next few days and make sure someone always knows where you are at."

Guinevere nodded; three babies at one birth.

* * *

><p>Having agreed to accompany Ylsa on this remarkable birthing the tension in the house eased. That evening Father Flaejer moved the girl up to Ms. Alfonsa's room to be nursed. She woke briefly and Ylsa was encouraged by this as a sign of good health. Since Gwen was unemployed much of the girl's nursing fell to her. She and Luisa split the day time hours in half.<p>

Kerenza and Synove's efforts to find her clients bore fruit also bore fruit. Each of them sent the wives of their employers to her for work. Gwen found herself preparing to make a night dress for one Mrs. Cerridwyn and a wrap for Mrs. Luefried and there was still work to do for Adras. Gwen spent her time at the girl's bedside sewing.

For the first few days the girl only woke enough to take some clear broth and be helped to the chamber pot. But as her strength returned she spoke to them a bit in clear soft Latin and Gwen learned that her name was Abebech and that she had lost all her family. Understanding this misery she did not probe her about it instead Gwen told her tales to pass the time and Abebech helped her a bit with sewing when she felt up to it.

Between the new clients and nursing Abebech Gwen only found time to go down to the infirmary twice in ten days and then only for short visits. It was on the eleventh day that Tony came in the townhouse excited and breathless looking for Ylsa. Tesni had gone into labor.

* * *

><p>The house was small, simple, not particularly poor but far from wealthy. It seemed a comfortable place for working folk like herself. A handsome man with tanned skin, pale eyes and dark brown hair greeted them. For a moment he looked at her with confusion but then his eyes landed on Ylsa and relieved smile stretched his face.<p>

"Ms. Ylsa thanks so much for your help, please come in both of you."

"You are welcome Alun." They stepped inside and he looked at Guinevere curiously, waiting for Ylsa to introduce her.

"Alun," Ylsa motioned toward the young man. "This is Ms. Jenafere she is helping me tonight. This is Alun, Tesni's husband."

"Just Ms. Jen is fine." Gwen said as she shook hands with the father-to-be.

"Thank you. Tesni is-"

At that moment the mother to be appeared, brown hair loose about her shoulders, face pale, abdomen bulging, she looked to be just out of girlhood. Not too young to be pregnant but still quite young, a few years younger than Gwen at least. Clearly this was Tesni

"Ms. Ylsa?"

Gwen could hear the fear in the young woman's voice. Ylsa went to Tesni threw her arms around her.

"Ylsa thank all the gods that you are here."

"Of course I am here. I told you I would take care of you."

"Tesni, this is Jen, she is going to be helping me today along with your mother-in-law Heulwen, Carys and Catrin the other two midwives that you met no long ago they will be along shortly, and your friends May and Xang."

Guinevere extended her hand and Tesni shook it.

"Nice to meet you Ms.-" Tesni gasped and squeezed Guinevere's hand hard as contraction seized her.

"Ohhh." Ylsa made a sympathetic face and Gwen pulled her hand away the moment the contraction passed, rubbing it.

"Sorry." Tesni apologized.

"It's okay I've held the hands of laboring mothers before you just surprised me." Gwen said.

"Thank you for helping me." Tesni smiled.

"You're welcome."

"Tesni I'll need to examine you."

"Of course, ."

Ylsa and Tesni went to the rear of the little house and Gwen followed them. The sleeping area had been cordoned off from the rest of the house with a large swath of cloth draped over a cord. The birthing chair was already in place. Tesni and Ylsa sat down on a narrow bench.

Gwen was surprised to find a large mattress and bed in the space as well as a narrow, padded bench. Most Camelot peasants didn't have things like padded benches or mattresses on beds. She remembered what Synove had said about everything being inexpensive here. Wyeledon was such a great and terrible place.

Ylsa did not move from her position on the bench. She simply held her hands over Tesni's bulging abdomen and then crouched and did the same of the girl's genital area. The young woman seemed to have a short contraction during the exam but that was it. After several minutes Ylsa stood and went to Gwen's side.

"Her labor is progressing a bit slowly. I'm going to try and move it along."

"With?"

"No teas. She has been drinking nettle regularly but we need something else. I'm going to encourage the organs of the body involved in labor to work more quickly."

"How?"

"In the simplest terms I shall do so by applying conscious instruction."

"Oh." Gwen said, not understanding in the least. "Conscious instruction?"

"Later. Can you get me a stool?"

Gwen found Alun and fetched a stool for Ylsa. They settled Tesni on her bed and Ylsa at the bedside.

"When I am done she shall need something to eat, nuts and dried fruits preferably." Ylsa took the laboring woman's hands and slipped almost immediately into a trance. Gwen fetched the requested foods from Alun who had them on hand. She sat the food down nearby and studied Ylsa for a moment. The ebon dark woman breathed slow and deep almost as if she were sleeping and her eyes were closed. Guinevere met Tesni's dark eyes and the girl gave her small smile. She was tempted to strike up a conversation with Tesni but she didn't know if it might disturb Ylsa's trance.

Gwen made herself comfortable on a floor cushion and got out the sewing she had brought with her. If possible she wanted to finish Mrs. Luefried's wrap before the week was out. She'd began humming to herself as she sewed, a song her mother used to sing.

"Ms. Jen?"

She looked up.

"Yes."

"Ylsa referred to you as Miss?"

"Yes."

"Ahhh." Tesni didn't say anything but that one sound said it all, unmarried, never married. Tesni was about four years her junior and about to be a mother of three.

"Do you live in Ms. Alfonsa's Townhouse as well?"

"Yes."

The younger woman's face lit up.

"We hear _all_ the tales about Ms. Alfonsa."

"Nothing bad mind you," Tesni smiled a sleepy sort of glassy eyed smile. "Just tales, with Father Flaejer, Lady Adrassss and fights with the procurers."

Gwen considered the incident a few days ago.

"Well yes I suppose such things do happen."

"And you came from very far away." She nodded slowly, "I can tell by your accccccent." The last word came out in a slur. "I feel really good." Tesni giggled.

Gwen nodded and studied the girl. If she didn't know better Gwen would swear that she was drugged.

"Are you a midwife like Ylsa?" Her head lolled to one side and she stroked her abdomen with a slow caress.

"Not exactly, I hope to be a physician."

"Ooohhhh," Tesni smiled. "That would be exciting. You might take a position at a king's court meet heroes and knights." She giggled. "Perhaps even a husband."

"Perhaps," Gwen said dryly.

"A handsome-" The girl gasped and took a deep breath.

"Just breath through it Tesni." Gwen coached and glanced at Ylsa. There was no change in midwife's state, no evidence that she was at all aware of what was happening around her. The contraction passed and Gwen saw fear in the girl's eyes.

"You're okay." Gwen gave her an encouraging smile. "You've got the one of the best midwives in all of Wyeledon looking after you."

Tesni nodded and fell silent stroking her midsection, glassy eyed expression had gone. Whatever spell Ylsa was doing the contraction had cut through it.

Gwen considered some other things they might discuss but Tesni's gaze had turned toward the small window. She went instead back to her sewing. After a time she heard the sound of male voices, the men must have heard that Tesni was in labor and gathering to keep Alun company.

After what had to be an hour Ylsa opened her eyes with a smile.

"Her labor shall progress more quickly now. Did you get the food?"

Gwen nodded and passed the wooden bowl to Ylsa who took a handful of the fruit and nuts.

"Eat now." Ylsa extended the food to Tensi. "Soon you will not have time and the work I pushed you body to do requires that your nourishment be replenished."

"But there isn't anything wrong, is there?"

Ylsa shook her head and smoothed the other woman's hair.

"I've taken care of you all this time. I shall continue to do so now."

"Thank you." Tesni began nibbling on the food Ylsa gave her.

"What did you do?"

"I simply encouraged the organs of the body to do what they were already doing only a little faster, to draw on her body's stored vigor."

"How?"

"The organs of the body know their function quite well. However sometimes they become confused or sluggish and either do too much or too little of what it is they do naturally. I can consider things that the organs do and do not do and gently nudge them in a somewhat different direction."

While Guinevere was trying to puzzle out what that meant, Ylsa reached into the bag that she had brought with her and pulled out a small wooden box carved with symbols of luck and fertility.

"This is a box of nettle that I have enchanted. Tea brewed from it will work more effectively in case of hemorrhage."

Guinevere frowned, not at all certain why Ylsa was telling her this.

"If you chose to practice medicine in Wyeledon there are certain enchantments that the locals will expect you to perform on their behalf."

When Gwen said nothing Ylsa went on.

"It is your choice whether or not you use them but you should be aware of them."

Before Guinevere could respond Tesni cried out loudly.

"It was much stronger."

"That is good. Let's get you up and moving, "Ylsa said.

The day wore on and Tesni's labor progressed. From time-to-time there a raucous laugh or shout from the men gather to keep Alun company reached them. Two of the women Ylsa mentioned arrived, May, a lean, somber looking young woman still in the early stages of pregnancy and with a very pale complexion and Xang a dark-haired girl with fair golden-brown skin and unusually shaped yet familiar eyes. Ylsa introduced both young women Gwen and let them take over walking Tesni around. With their arrival the house filled with chatter and girlish laughter.

This was not quite the same as other deliveries Gwen had attended. Usually any female who might claim type of blood kin to a girl laboring to bring forth her first child would be present sisters, aunts, cousins, nieces, etc…If Gwen had remained in Camelot she would have expected her Aunts Mary and Liza to come to the castle itself along with some of their eldest daughters, not to mention her friends like Enid. She wondered suddenly did all of the women of Wyeledon labor alone like this?

Hearty shouts of welcome from the men outside reached them and a moment later two more women entered. Both women were tall and looked to be old enough to have children Ylsa's age. Their skin was pale and their dark hair graying round the hairline. Gwen studied them for a moment they looked to her like sisters.

"Carys, Catrin," Ylsa went to them immediately and the older women embraced her in turn. "Thank you both so much for coming."

"We're grateful for the invitation. A midwife is lucky to participate in a delivery such as this."

"We wouldn't have missed it; we are honored by your invitation."

Gwen observed this trying to determine which sister was which. Ylsa beckoned her over.

"This is Jenafere, she is helping out today. Jen this is Ms. Carys," Ylsa indicated the sister in the blue, "and this is Mrs. Catrin," she indicated the sister in the green.

"Nice to meet you both Ms. Carys and Mrs. Catrin."

"Are you Ylsa's apprentice?" The one in green asked.

"Oh no she is just letting me help."

"Ahhhh."

"Jen wants to be one of those ever so important physicians." Ylsa rolled eyes. "But we'll make her into one of us yet." Ylsa patted her arm and gave her a little wink. Carys and Catrin laughed. "Jen is going to observe and be responsible for the baby dunking."

For the next few hours the women took turns walking Tesni around the room. As the day drew on her contractions came swift and hard and grew closer and closer together. The house which had been moderately warm when they arrived grew hot with the constant boiling of water. While Tesni was still early in her labor it was not uncommon for a woman progress suddenly and rapidly. Hot water had to be on hand. The women stripped to their chemises, occasionally sponging themselves so as not to grow too offensive.

Near suppertime Mrs. Heulwen, Alun's mother arrived with a basket under her arm and the smell of fresh baked bread and chicken. Like her son the woman was attractive and rather sturdy looking in appearance. She saw to it that they all had something to eat and then settled in for the evening.

From time-to-time Ylsa checked Tesni's progress as she had done initially and each time she seemed more pleased. Eventually she sent Xang and May to prepare a hand wash of boiled water and clove oil.

"One of the babies is stuck. This is the danger with these types of birthings not enough room for all of them to settle properly."

"I'll start opening the cabinets." Gwen turned to do that important job and felt Ylsa's hand on her shoulder.

"You don't need to do that Gwen."

"When everything in the home is open it will help open up the womb." Gwen replied with confidence. Ylsa looked at her with a frown.

"Unfortunately sympathetic magic is one of the least effective forms of magic Jen."

"Magic?" Gwen stared at her; opening cabinets was not magic.

One of the sisters was massaging Tesni's abdomen while the other sat at the young woman's side encouraging her.

"Don't worry about it Jen. I want you to stay on hand."

"I shall guide him and this is where I shall need you the most. He shall come first. I will be monitoring Tesni and all the babies the entire time. If something goes wrong I will drop into trance immediately. I need you on to take care of the babies with May and Xang." Ylsa seemed to be watching her intently as she spoke. "Carys and Catrin will be responsible for making sure the rest of the delivery goes smoothly. It is important that your hands are clean when you touch these infants." Ylsa took Gwen's hand and raised it. "I know you can't see it but it is swimming with foul humors; the clove oil will cleanse the humors. Once you have cleaned them do not touch anything but the babies. If you do I need you to clean them again. So no cabinets."

Guinevere frowned.

"No cabinets. I mean it if you violate this about cleaning you will never work with me again."

Guinevere swallowed and nodded. She didn't understand what Ylsa was talking about but she took it very seriously.

"Very well no cabinets."

Xang returned with what Ylsa referred to as the cleaned water. The mid-wife gave it an experimental sniff, nostrils widening slightly before she nodded with approval.

"Perfect."

"Thank you Ms. Ylsa,"Xang smiled.

Ylsa pushed up her sleeves before soaking her arms up to the elbow.

"The babies are coming!" Tesni shrieked and they got her to the birthing chair.

"Jen soak your arms up the elbows for twenty heartbeats."

She plunged her arms into the hot water just as Ylsa had ordered. The clove oil made her skin tingle and Gwen began to count her heartbeats eyes riveted on Ylsa, cabinets momentarily forgotten.

Ylsa lay down on her side and slid one arm into Tesni's vaginal canal, directing the young woman not to push. All the women watched with anxious faces as Ylsa strained, eyes closed, shifting the infant so he could slide forth. After several long moments Ylsa removed her hand and shifted into squatting position encouraging the young woman to push. Tesni did as directed and the first baby slid forward in gush of blood, too much blood. The pungent smell of birthing-blood filled the room and Ylsa passed the baby to Gwen for his first bath. Then the midwife was getting up, maneuvering to Tesni's side, while Carys took her place.

Gwen gave the child a quick dunk in the steamy hot water which set him to crying shrilly as his tiny limbs flailed in his first moments of life and just as quickly as the infant had begun crying he became calm and quite bringing his little arms to his chest and tucking up his little legs. Together she and Xang got him swaddled.

"Come on Tesni we can see him," Carys coached. "Just wait for your next pains and push."

Tesni gasped, wailed and bore down the second baby slipped forth in a mess of blood. This one was also a boy Gwen got him dunked and bathed just like his brother. Just one more baby and they would have completed a miracle. Only there was a gasp around the room.

Gwen looked up to see that Tesni's face had gone ashen and she was sagging forward in the chair. Her stomach rippled and she revived as quickly as she'd flagged. Gwen spared a glance for Ylsa and saw that the woman was already in trance. How had she known?

"You're almost done." Catrin said and there were cheers of encouragement round the room. The young woman cried out and pushed Gwen could see her straining.

"Don't push Tesni!" Carys cried.

"What?" Tesni said worried.

"You third little one is backwards." There were worried glances exchanged all about the room.

"We're going to take care of you." Catrin said.

Ylsa opened her eyes just then.

"I had hoped she would shift when her brothers moved." Ylsa said.

"She," Carys looked at Ylsa. "I'm going to try and turn her."

"Just breathe through your contractions Tesni."

"Okay."

Carys cleaned her hands in Ylsa's clove water, while Catrin and Ylsa stayed at Tesni's side coaching her through these last difficult moments. Again they watched waiting, the sunlight dwindling, while Carys tried to turn the child.

"It cannot be done." The older woman said at last. All eyes went to Ylsa.

"If Carys cannot do it then it cannot be done. This is not something my magic can do. This shall be a footling," Ylsa said.*iii

There were sighs all around the room and worried clucking. Tesni's eyes grew wide. Everyone knew the danger of these footlings. Catrin squeezed the young mother's shoulders.

"We shall take care of you."

"We shall need more light," Ylsa announced

"Of course," Mrs. Heulwen said.

She handed her grandson to May and began lighting the lanterns, coals, and candles and torches.

"Stand up." Ylsa said softly to Tesni when the room was good and bright.

"Mrs. Heulwen, May can you clear the bedding we don't want it ruined."

The two women did as asked and they moved the girl to the bed and had her kneel on all fours. Ylsa knelt beside Tesni hands palm down on her lower back.

The breech delivery was a long exhausting process in comparison to the two little boys. May and Xang took care to walk them around the room and keep them cuddled and calm. Gwen unable to simply watch went about the house to open every cabinet, every shutter and untie every knot. She didn't know if it was truly magic but it had certainly never hurt anyone.

With each of Tesni's strained cried slow inch after inch the infant emerged. What had been a struggle of minutes with each of the boys became a test of endurance with this girl; tiny toes first and then legs, knees buttocks. Catrin stepped in then getting one hand under the tiny body.

It seemed to go on for hours. Guinevere rang sweat from her hair and chemise watching, waiting, and holding a collective breath with every contraction as Tesni labored on in tears now. The summer heat, the damp warmth of the room seemed to press down on them and no one spoke. Finally May began singing the praises of St. Anne and slowly they joined their voices with hers, begging for her blessing and guardianship for Tesni.

Gwen cleared her mind of all thoughts save Tesni's safe delivery. She sang her prayer reciting in her mind the names of her ancestors going back as far as she could. She let her whole heart be filled with this one thought, this one desire the safe delivery of this final infant.

They finished the hymn and started another and then a third. Tesni continued to labor and a cooling breeze moved through the room breaking up the hot oppressive air. At long last the child's body slipped forward. Gwen remembered Ylsa instructions and cleaned her hands again all while singing with the rest of the women.

Not long after the child's head emerged and Gwen was there just as she had been directed. The last infant was given her bath, she shrieked loud and strong like her brothers before being swaddled.

They moved poor exhausted Tesni back to the chair for the delivery of the afterbirth. It came with surprising swiftness and Gwen suspected that Ylsa had something to do with that. Mrs. Heulwen and Xang were cleaning Tesni up almost immediately, pressing a mug of Ylsa's nettle bark tea into her hands while the rest of the women saw to the infants.

Ylsa checked over each of the infants, monitoring them just as she had with their mother. As Ylsa pronounced the infants fit, she handed them to May who turn took them to their weary mother. She saved the girl for last and lingered over her the longest.

"Ylsa said there was a girl. I have a little girl." Tesni asked finally. "Is she okay?"

"You shouldn't get too attached Tesni," Mrs. Heulwen said. "You can never know with infants."

Guinevere watched the girl's face grow paler still.

"She will be fine," Ylsa said voice hoarse, expression weary. She walked to Tesni's side. "They will all be fine."

Guinevere started to smile. They had indeed performed a miracle.

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><p>i a type of knee length underwear worn by men during the medieval period<p>

ii Celibacy was not required for Catholic priest until 1123 I generally think of this story as taking place around 9-something before the Normans.

iii breech deliveries were common and many were performed successfully. The most dangerous type of breech delivery was a footling because of the duration of the delivery itself. Also non-surgical breech deliveries are becoming more and more common because of the dangers of drug reactions, surgical infections and the overall health benefits to the mother of delivering vaginally whenever possible.

A/N So the title and baby delivery in this chapter is pure ironic coincidence. Gwen needed to really learn something about Ylsa's magic and Ylsa is midwife. Guess what you guys I have good news and bad news. The bad news I'm no longer working, the good news I have way more time for writing in fact the rough draft of the next chapter is already being reviewed by my betas. That means I can offer all of you a preview of the next chapter right now.

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><p><strong><em>Chapter XVIII, Witch Hunt:<em>**

Arthur went back to carving as best he could in the dim light and Merlin got the rabbits and tubers he'd dug up spitted to roast and then since he was hungry and it was late he used a bit of his magic to speed the process. When he handed Arthur his plate the other stared at him suspiciously but said nothing. The two men ate in silence the sounds of the forest at night grew into a subtle sort of cacophony, owls looing, wolves calling to their packs, insects chirping for their mates, the rush of not too distant water and the leaves trees rustling in the wind and none of it visible. Outside the dim golden glow of their campfire nothing could be seen...

"But it has to be policed. People have to make these charms, the charms have to work and they have to be available. We can do without magic." Arthur said thoughtfully. "And it seems to give people an unfair advantage. I mean even an untrained peasant can get lucky or desperate and defeat a knight or bandit with a well swung pot." He took a deep breath, "What happened to Guinevere all those other women, how were they supposed to escape that? It ruined their lives, it ruined," Arthur paused his expression told Merlin that he was searching for a word."It ruined everything."

The last words came out softly and Merlin stared at Arthur wondering himself for just a moment why magic should be legal.

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><p>As always thank you for reading and don't forget to give me the gift of your thoughts and reviews, merry Christmas or happy whatever you celebrate.<p> 


	18. The Exile Chapter: Two Roads

Part II, Chapter XVIII, Two Roads

**Having learned of Guinevere's innocence**** Arthur desires mightily to begin the search for Guinevere. With Morgana on the loose though he knows an open search for his lost love might endanger her. So Merlin and Arthur set out to find Morgana and bring her to justice. However with things still tense between them the journey does not go well as Arthur begins to probe all of the lies that Merlin has told him. Spoiler warning for episode 2x8 and 4x9.**

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><p><em><strong>Previously in The Exile<strong>_

_**Chapter 15, The Aftermath, Merlin:**_

_Merlin froze and that acid feeling of guilt burned in his stomach. When had Arthur's skin become so dull, his complexion tinged with an unhealthy yellow? His cheekbones always prominent were still more visible, dark circles rode heavy and black under his eyes and somehow he seemed even to have aged…. chapter 15_

_**Chapter 15, The Aftermath, Merlin to Arthur**_

_"I'm a sorcerer Arthur I always have been." The words came out in a whisper_

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><p><strong>The<strong>**Exile, Part II:**

**-Guinevere Called Jenafere-**

**Chapter XVIII: Two Roads**

Rain had fallen during the night; their horses' hooves – the usual clip-clop muffled as they fell on the soft ground- stirred that lush scent of water and earth. Here and there sunlight broke through the forest canopy to glint with diamond brilliance off the leaves of the trees. Arthur was aware of these things but could not take his usual pleasure in them. He surveyed the forest mechanically looking for any evidence of a threat. When he saw none his eyes went to Merlin.

Arthur studied the back of Merlin's head and bit out another curse. Merlin didn't even bother to turn his head this time. Arthur had been doing that for a while now, staring at Merlin's head and spouting curses.

"How did you stop the dragon?"

"What?"

"Don't be coy Merlin. _How,_ did you stop, the dragon?"

"Very well," Merlin sighed and turned in the saddle. "Balinor was my father."

"What?" Arthur asked.

"When he died I became the last dragonlord."

Arthur looked the other man up and down. "I see but how?"

"It just happens." Merlin explained. "From father to son."

"I'm sorry about your father," Arthur offered.

Merlin shrugged."It was a long time ago now."

They rode on into the woods, accompanied by birdsong and the droning of bees.

"So you're a warlock and a dragonlord?"

"Yes."

_"You can trust him with your life but not your kingdom,"- _Grigor had advised after questioning Merlin.

"The last dragonlord."

Arthur felt the heat of rage boil through him and pound in his ears. He spurred his horse forward, snatched the reigns from Merlin and brought both mounts to a stop.

"You're the one who freed the dragon aren't you?" He stared Merlin down eyes glinting with anger.

Merlin stared back and Arthur felt some satisfaction as fear flickered through his eyes for just a moment.

"Yes."

"All, those people, are dead Merlin." Arthur waited a moment for the other man's response. "Men, women and children are dead because of that monster. Why shouldn't I execute you right here and now?"

Merlin tried to think. How could he possibly make Arthur understand?

"Answer," Arthur demanded reading the confusion in the other man's face and growing more outraged with each moment. "Why would you release that monster?"

"Monster?" Merlin's eyes narrowed and he drew in a breath it was for this type of thinking that he had never known his father. "Dragons are not monsters; they are creatures of wonder and magic."

"Wonder-"

"-Yes wonder," Merlin interjected as the wheels in his mind began to turn and he thought of all the innocents Uther had killed. "He is only the monster that Uther made him. He has only committed the same crimes your father committed."

"My father-"

"Your father would have burnt Gwen at the stake twice were it not for me." He stared Arthur down. "That's right Arthur your father killed innocent men, women and children just like the dragon."

Arthur stared at Merlin unable to speak.

"And Tom, what about poor Tom? We both know he was innocent but he was murdered by Camelot guards."

"Tom," he paused. The guilt that would never leave him bubbled forth now. "Tom tried- he tried to escape." The words came out in a soft, muttered sort of way.

"And does that make it easier for you to sleep at night? Uther murdered innocent people. He hunted them, inflicted torture and terror on them and then he killed them. He hunted the dragons into near extinction. Thanks to him I only spent a twelve hours with my father. If I have the blood of the people of Camelot on my hands, then so does Uther. And as long as you uphold his policies so do you." Merlin took the reins of his horse back and urged it forward into a gallop. "We should not dally here."

Arthur stared after the other man a moment before following. He couldn't deny Gwen or Tom's innocence and if he were honest there had been other innocents unjustly executed during his father's reign. He thought about the slaughter at the druid camp, and his hands tightened on the horse's reigns. He had not been directly involved in the killing but he had been young, inexperienced, unable to control his men. In truth he should not have been the one to lead that raid. There _was_ blood on his hands. They rode on in silence for a while.

_"You can trust him with your life but not your kingdom"_

"Merlin stop," Arthur halted. A warm gust of wind stirred the leaves of the tree and ruffled the blue linen shirt he was wearing. "Regardless of what my father has done, I need to understand you. This is about your choices and your actions. Over a hundred people were killed by the dragon. Why did you release him?" Arthur asked.

"I had no choice," Merlin said simply.

"There is always a choice Merlin," Arthur felt some flicker of annoyance.

"I had given him my word. Kilgarrah-"

"Kilgarrah?" Arthur looked at him askance.

"Yes he has a name. Kilgarrah has actually helped you."

He heard some pride in Merlin's voice.

"Me? The same dragon that tried to destroy Camelot?"

"Yes." Merlin said plainly. "I was not so practiced in my magic when I first came to Camelot. Without his guidance you would have been dead several times or married to Vivian." He said the last with a bit of a smirk

"Well, Guinevere, ah sorted the last out," Arthur said scratching the back of his head.

"Who do you think convinced her to go to you? She was right pissed with you."

"And why would the dragon help me?"

"I'm not sure honestly. Dragons are nearly immortal; they think about things differently but Kilgarrah and other prophets believe that during your lifetime, as king, you will lift the ban on magic. This is one of the steps on the road to bringing peace to the kingdoms of Albion, something that you are supposed to do."

"Me?"

"Yes."

"Why would I do that?" Arthur looked at Merlin expectantly.

"Perhaps because that is the only way to bring peace," Merlin said. "Perhaps because you come to see that magic users can be good, innocent people that help Camelot, I don't really know. Regardless I don't know why Kilgarrah helped you," Merlin said. "Perhaps he just hoped that helping you would help him in the long run. Maybe he hoped that he would be released when magic was no longer illegal or some such. Maybe," Merlin paused and let out a breath, "maybe he was just wanting to get me indebted to him so I'd have no choice but to agree to free him."

"That's why you're not supposed to consort with magic users they're-" Arthur looked at Merlin and stopped himself.

_"You can trust him with your life but not your kingdom."_

"We're what?" Merlin challenged.

"You're-" Arthur paused he'd been about to say killers, thieves or fiends but he couldn't say that to Merlin. "I don't know what you are!"He finished and urged his horse forward.

The two men continued in silence until they came copse of yellow magnolia trees, drooping under the weight of their flowers. Petals, yellow and sun bright in the gloom of the forest covered their branches and carpeted the earth while their perfume sweet and soft enveloped them. Arthur let his horse slow to a stop at a fork in the road. He took in the scent of the flowers, let his eyes drift shut. The fragrance conjured Guinevere. An afternoon when they had gone riding and he had picked these very flowers for her. His hand recalled the warmth of her fingertips brushing his when he handed her the flowers. He could see her smile wide and bright when she pinned one of the palm sized blooms into her hair. His hand drifted to the ring lying atop his heart.

_"Guinevere."_

"Why did you help Mordred?" Merlin asked.

Arthur started, blinked and returned to the present.

"He was a child, an innocent," he glared at Merlin.

"Ahh, so magic users can be innocent."

"Perhaps he wasn't a magic user," Arthur said. "We couldn't be certain and it wasn't fair to execute a child for something he might become."

"Nor is it fair to execute every magic user for something they might do," Merlin with a pleased little smile like the ones he wore when he felt clever.

"That's different," Arthur said. "I thought you said you knew where we were going?"

"I do, you're the one that stopped."

Arthur glared, "Which way Merlin?"

The other man considered both paths a moment.

"Right."

Arthur urged his horse forward and snapped a blossom from a low hanging tree as they passed.

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><p>They took lunch at a glade in the forest near a stream. The flowing water created a babble that might have been soothing at another time; today nothing could calm or quiet his mind. Events that never made sense had been coming back to him ever since Merlin's confession. They bubbled to the surface in a slow but steady trickle. Some he dismissed but others needed answering.<p>

"Did you lie to me about my father and mother?"

"Huh?"

"Did you lie to me about how my mother died?"

"I," Merlin hesitated and sighed. "I couldn't let you kill your own father."

"That's not what I asked you Merlin?" He could hear the tremble in Arthur's voice.

"I know." Merlin held Arthur's eyes letting the other man read the answer in his face.

A rage Merlin hadn't seen in years suffused the king's face and Merlin trembled as his stomach soured with dread. Arthur got to his feet skipped a rock across the stream.

"How could he do that?" Arthur yelled. "How could a man do that to someone he claimed to love?"

Merlin looked at the ground speaking to Arthur the words that Gaius had spoken to him.

"By the time Uther came to love her, it was too late."

He looked up and watched the play of grief and anguish across the king's face.

"Does it matter?" Arthur bit out voice heavy and husky."Does that make it any less monstrous?"

Arthur stared down at him a crow cawed in the distance.

"You're not you're father. You're not like your father."

The king took a breath and sat down

"What- How-"Arthur paused.

Merlin watched the other man's pale blue eyes, bright with unshed tears as they followed the progress of the stream again and waited for Arthur to ask his next question.

"What do you know about that type of magic?" He asked at last.

"What do you mean?" Merlin frowned.

"Magic that gives a life, what do you know about it?"

For a long time Merlin was silent and then he surprised Arthur by telling him a story about the day he was bitten by the questing beast.

Not the story he knew. Not the story of Guinevere sitting at his bedside, nursing him, saying to him the first kind words that he would have from her lips; words that rooted themselves in the fertile ground of his heart and mind when he was already half in love with her. Merlin told the story of an encounter with the sorceress, Nimueh, the use of the Holy Grail, a bargain struck to save a life and Merlin a willing sacrifice but unexpectedly the magic did the choosing.

"You, your mother and Gaius but why?" Arthur asked bewildered his throat tight. "Why would you do that Merlin? What great thing have I done to warrant that type of devotion?"

"You don't know your own value Arthur, your possible greatness," Merlin frowned. "Your father's corrupt choices overshadowed you." He shook his head. "You're the king who risked his life to save a servant, something most kings would discard without a thought." Merlin swallowed round the lump in his throat and looked away a moment blinking rapidly. "In Essetir we were very poor. Much of what we grew went to taxes. Uther was a horrible tyrant but he made laws and he followed them. Cenred was not that type of king and you, Arthur, by that time had risked your own life to save mine. You'd helped me protect my mother, something her own king would not do though it was his duty and you drank that poison draught when you failed the unicorn's test to save Camelot. I could not let the good that you might do in the future be taken from the world."

Arthur held Merlin's gaze searching for signs of deceit. Trying to understand the man that had hidden so much from him for six years. Would he know the signs if he saw them? Who was the man behind his _clumsily, bumbling_ servant?

A family of ducks came down the stream quacking to one and other in loud squawks.

"We probably shouldn't linger," Merlin said.

"Yeah." Arthur got to his feet and Merlin did the same.

"Arthur, listen to me," Merlin said. "I am your friend."

"Are you or are you just like everyone else? My friend because you want something from me?" The words came out with unexpected bitterness. "The ban on magic lifted perhaps."

"Then would I have let you kill him; you would have lifted the ban after that."

Arthur stared at him and Merlin tried to let his sincerity show in his eyes. After a while the other man snorted and turned away without a word.

The two men mounted and the tension between them was still honey thick but now it pressed down from above as well as pushed between.

* * *

><p>Though it was the height of summer, darkness came swiftly under the forest canopy. Both men kept their eyes open for an appropriate campsite, neither wanted to be in the saddle as darkness fell nor attempting to set up camp after the sun was gone. They found a site about twenty paces from the beaten path with more than time enough to make camp. The site was in a little dip screened by trees and new growth. It would be difficult to approach without making noise and the vantage from where the dip started to climb gave a good view of anyone or anything moving through the under growth as long as there was daylight.<p>

With it being only the two of them Arthur helped with some of the work of setting up the camp. He laid out his own bedroll, gathered firewood, dug out the fire pit and got the fire going. The horses and dinner preparation were as always left to Merlin.

The wizard removed his horse's tack and found himself half way through Arthur's before he paused. The king sat relaxed leisurely sharpening his sword as Merlin worked. According to Kilgarrah he was the most powerful warlock in the world, he _was_ a dragonlord by birthright and he'd saved the Arthur's life so many times yet here he was the same always.

The king looked up as if sensing Merlin thinking about him and glared before looking away. Perhaps now was not the time to change things. He sighed and finished removing the horse's gear. Arthur had felled two rabbits as they'd traveled with a well flung stone.

Merlin sat down near the fire and began skinning the rabbits.

"Merlin," Arthur looked up. "I sometimes gave you twice or thrice the work I knew you could do. I didn't expect you to finish it all but you always did. That was magic right?"

"Yes."

Arthur sighed and studied him a moment through the dancing flames.

"I thought you were good at delegating."

"What?" It was Merlin's turn to look up.

"You were servant to the crown-prince and then the king. You outrank most of the servants in the palace. I'd always assumed you'd put them to work." Arthur frowned. "That's what you do when you have work enough for three have three people do it. I thought you were good at delegating, at leading the other servants."

Merlin snapped the twig he'd been toying with in half.

Arthur tested the sharpness of his blade and felt some satisfaction at the line of blood on his thumb. He sheathed the sword and sucked briefly at his thumb. Merlin got the rabbits and some tubers, he'd dug up and spitted them all to roast. Then since he was hungry and it was late he used a bit of his magic to speed the process. When he handed Arthur his plate the other stared at him suspiciously but said nothing. The two men ate in silence, the sounds of the forest at night grew into a subtle sort of cacophony, owls looing, wolves calling to their packs, insects chirping for their mates, the rush of not too distant water, the leaves trees rustling in the wind and none of it visible. Outside the dim golden glow of their campfire nothing could be seen.

The darkness of the forest was impenetrable. The canopy shut out the silvery bright light of the stars and a half full moon. A tree that he had studied moments before the sun had finally set was now for all intents and purposes invisible. Merlin liked this peaceful darkness which brought the world to a stop.

In that frozen moment he recalled his promise to Grigor. His promise to tell Arthur about the vision with Guinevere.

_"Arthur I had a vision-" _He considered how he might start. _"Arthur ever since Elyan returned with Gwen's ring-"_

"I can't just make magic legal."

He looked at the king and saw him reclining against his pack toying with the flower he'd picked earlier that afternoon.

"What?"

"I can't just open Camelot's borders to any and every magic user." Arthur brought the flower to his nose and paused. "I also can't leave the people of Camelot vulnerable to every magic user with a grudge."

"Well no." Merlin agreed.

"How do I stop someone from giving me a pendant or bracelet that usurps my will or makes me stupid and turns me against my friends?"

"There are protective magics but right now you are still vulnerable to something like that happening."

Arthur snorted and sat up now.

"With all the enchantments I've seen in the last few years how come you've never used any of these protective magics?"

"And how was I supposed to give you a charm or a poultice? 'Here's a protective charm Arthur. Please burn me at the stake now'."

The king did not look amused.

"Many of the problems we've had are due to this war on magic. Most magic users are healers, people trying to summon good luck or charlatans which is a problem but very few of them are looking for war."

"What about," Arthur paused. "What about Lamia, those people who turn children into weapons?"

"You don't have to allow all types of magic."

"But it has to be policed. People have to make these charms, the charms have to work and they have to be available. We can do without magic," Arthur said thoughtfully. "And it seems to give people an unfair advantage. I mean even an untrained peasant can get lucky or desperate and defeat a knight or bandit with a well swung pot." He took a deep breath."What happened to Guinevere all those other women, how were they supposed to escape that? It ruined their lives, it ruined," Arthur paused his expression told Merlin that he was searching for a word."It ruined everything."

The last words came out softly and Merlin stared at Arthur wondering himself for just a moment why _should_ magic be legal.

"Magic users have defended Camelot, given their lives for it and magic isn't going anywhere. I was born with it, Morgana was born with it. People are going to continue studying it; they will continue to teach it to their children. You can't kill everyone, in all of Britannia that has magic; you can't erase it from existence. "

Arthur looked away from him but Merlin thought he saw something grim creep into the king's expression. He felt a dawning sense of dread. What if Arthur were thinking exactly that? Not out of hate, guilt or hypocrisy like his father but that it was best for Camelot.

Arthur would gladly give his own life for Camelot if he judged that to be best. In his mind it would be no hypocrisy to ask others to do the same. Merlin rubbed sweat dampened palms on his trousers and tried to think.

"It is the ban on magic that turned Morgana against us."

Arthur looked at him askance.

"Morgana wants power, she wants to be queen," Arthur denied.

"No, not at first, something inside her changed. You need to listen to me and you need to you simply need to accept what I am about to say to you because you can't understand it if you have not live this life." Merlin felt his stomach go sour and he gripped his knees to keep his hands from shaking. "Remember, Morgana was born with her magic."

Arthur did not speak, merely watched his expression calm, patient.

"When her magic came upon her it frightened her, sickened her, she thought she was a monster, just like I had." He couldn't look at another man, another human being and say these things. Things he'd barely admitted to himself but he had to if Arthur was going to understand. Merlin lifted his head and met Arthur's eyes. "Imagine being told all your life that there is a monster out there, a terrible thing, a thing to fear, to hate, to kill. Every time something bad happens, every time something that we don't understand happens, the monster does it. Then you find out you're the monster, the thing to be hated, the thing to kill and all that hate and fear turns inward and yet," Merlin paused, "it can only turn inward so long. Uther treated Morgana poorly at times but what set her against us was magic."

Arthur didn't say anything and he continued.

"Morgause wanted an ally in Camelot. She tried you first and when that failed she honed in on Morgana."

The king pursed his lips and looked terribly sad for a moment.

"Why didn't you tell her about your magic so she wouldn't feel, this," he paused to search for a word, "this isolation?"

"I don't know, I'm a servant. Would it have helped? Maybe, maybe not. Perhaps she would have turned me into Uther. Perhaps it mightn't have made a difference to her, then again maybe it would have been just enough for her. I couldn't know and look at where she is now. If I had told her and she still betrayed us," Merlin shook his head. "I don't know, I'm just a servant."

Silence descended again and Merlin stared into the flames wondering if he dared do a magic trick.

"What the hell?" He muttered to himself and forced the fire to assume the shape of a butterfly.

Arthur gasped and looked up at him quickly.

"Raises my spirits," Merlin said. "Why don't you get some rest? I'll take the first watch."

The king nodded.

* * *

><p>The arena, place of so many victories, stood empty now. The noon-day sun beamed down, baking the hard packed sandy ground and heating his neck and shoulders to the point of slight discomfort. He rubbed his left hand against his thigh to ease a dull ache there. Guinevere liked the feeling of the sun soaking into her muscles; he liked standing in the shade of a tree and watching her savor it. Relaxing in the sun was not an activity for the arena.<p>

He had no armor today only trousers and sandals. He looked to the royal box expecting to see his parents there. Instead he saw Morgause and his mother and it struck him that they were both red and gold.

"He will have to choose," Morgause said.

"It is vital you make the right choice my son." Igraine smiled at him compassionately and he returned it.

"It is time to choose Arthur Pendragon," Morgause said and he felt for a moment as if a cloud passed before the sun taking all the warmth and life of the world with it.

"Arthur?"

He turned and saw Morgana, not as he'd known her in recent years but younger, sweeter as she was before Camelot's magic ban drove a wedge between them.

"Arthur."

He looked in the opposite direction and saw his father robust and healthy.

"Choose," Morgause said again and gooseflesh rose on his limbs.

"Arthur!" Morgana shrieked.

He looked to her feet and saw them sinking into the sandy ground.

"Help me!"

"Of course," he replied.

"Son."

He looked away from Morgana and saw that his father was sinking too.

"Choose."

He looked back to Morgana and in the time that he had looked away she had sunk up to her knees. Morgana was smaller, a woman- no a girl really. He went to her first. The code of chivalry, the knight's code demanded it be so, protect the weakest.

"Come on Morgana." He took her hand and pulled expecting her to come free. She kept sinking albeit more slowly.

"Arthur. Help me, please son."

He looked to his father and saw that the older man was sunk up to his hips. He was bigger, he would sink faster. Morgana's grip on him tightened and he tore away. He had to help his father. Arthur dashed to his father's side and dug his heels into the earth. He pulled at the older man with all his might. Uther sunk no more but-

"Oh gods!"

He heard fear in her voice and saw tears in her eyes.

"Help me please!"She was sunk up to her breast.

His father's grip on him tightened as if Uther sensed the inner conflict.

"You have to choose," Uther said.

Arthur tore away from his father, Morgana needed him more. He got his hands under Morgana's armpits and tugged.

"Come on Morgana use your magic!"

"I'm no monster," she wailed! "Don't leave me again or I'll disappear."

She was right but if he didn't go to his father then Uther would disappear. He looked around the arena; he just needed a length of rope. It appeared at his feet and working quickly he got the rope around Morgana's bust just beneath her armpits. He wrapped the excess in his fist and pulled it taught. Then he took up another length and did the same for his father.

"Interesting choice Arthur Pendragon," Morgause said and Igraine looked distressed.

"I'll save them both!" He declared defiantly.

"Look again." Morgause said.

He looked and saw with some horror that the ropes had merged with his flesh.

"You have to make a choice." Igraine urged.

They were both sinking fast now, pulling him down to the ground with them, sending searing pains through his limbs. They shrieked desperately for help even as they tore him apart.

"But you've already chosen. Don't you remember?" That was his mother's voice.

He was in the throne room now begging his father's forgiveness for trying to kill him, for believing Morgause's lies. _But his father had betrayed his mother!_

"That's right you've already chosen."

His mother's voice was calm and soothing.

He looked up and saw his father on the throne, Merlin to the left, Gaius to the right…but his mother. He looked to the opposite end of the throne room they stood near the door, his mother, Morgause, Morgana and even Guinevere.

"Wait I haven't chosen." He started toward the door.

"Yes you have," Guinevere said with calm acceptance.

"But I didn't know everything." He complained.

"Yes," Guinevere's eyes, dark with condemnation met his "but you still chose Arthur."

* * *

><p>Arthur fed a stick into the fire. He watched it catch; little sparks flew outwards, some of them landed hot and stinging on his hands. He lifted his eyes to the woods now hidden by the dark. He was learning to hate the night, the dark. The time when the world stopped and all the things he'd rather not think about forced themselves to the front of his mind. The time when he woke still tired, hours before the rising of the sun and knew he'd be exhausted long before his day was finished.<p>

Tonight he couldn't even slip down to Guinevere's house or any of those little places all about Camelot where he might cherish his memories of her and have some comfort. The fire popped and hissed as one of the larger branches now white hot splintered and broke. He found the magnolia blossom that he'd picked earlier, inhaled its sweet scent. It wasn't enough.

_"But you did choose Arthur."_

_"You have already chosen."_

He got up and paced as far as the firelight would allow. Arthur thought back to the line of logic that led him to take the words spoken by his mother's ghost as truth. It wasn't simply that everything in the place felt _right and proper and good._ It was a thousand little things that he knew about his father that told him this was the truth behind his father's hatred of magic.

Uther was coldly logical about so many things, calculating his steps before taking them weighing each move and what it would gain him. Yet the purge was not logical, his reaction toward magic was rife with passion and hatred. Yes after the wars magic needed to be limited but Uther felt less anger for a simple murder than the saving of a life with magic. And there was the denial… his father could deny any thing that he did not like, any truth that did not suit his world view.

It did not matter that Grigor and Efan took such good care of him, that they were smarter than so many nobles that outranked them, it only mattered that they were yeomen and barely noble themselves. It didn't matter that Lancelot had more nobility in his small finger than half the arrogant young sons that came for knight training every year, only that he had not been born so, so therefore he could not be.

Hearing that story had filled in the gaps, answered a thousand questions, finished so many unfinished conversations…he thought of Grigor's words to him.

_"People always make sense in their own minds. When they don't make sense it is because we don't have all the information.'_

His father's ban on magic, the guilty way his father had looked upon him sometimes it had all made horrifying sense when he'd heard that story. He swallowed and that had meant it must be true. He had long ago promised himself that he would not live in denial about anything. The rage that he had held at bay since Sarah Goode's death surged again.

_"But you did choose Arthur."_

A strange laugh bubbled up inside of him, burst forth. Choices, his choices were a collection of nothings made based on deceit, half-truths and mis-information. Having confronted the moment of wanting to kill his father, Arthur never wanted to be in such a place again but he could have imprisoned his father, studied the situation, perhaps even lifted the ban on magic… Perhaps that moment at the end of his dream would have been different. Guinevere, Morgana and Merlin might have stood with them to face Morgause's threat. Perhaps Morgause mightn't have opposed them at all. If Merlin was right, there would not have been a need.

_"But you did choose Arthur."_

If he had known that Lancelot was a shade-

He looked at Merlin sleeping peacefully. He thought about the last moments of his dream Morgana, Morgause, Guinevere and his mother all in opposition to him.

_"But you did choose."_

Yes he had chosen but Merlin, who was supposed to be his friend, had decided what he did and did not know, had let him make decisions that cast Guinevere and Morgana away from him when otherwise he might not have done so. He looked at Merlin sleeping peacefully in the light of the fire and hated the sight of him.

* * *

><p>Merlin woke to Arthur shaking him roughly. It never meant anything good when Arthur woke him from his sleep.<p>

"Hurry up!"

Arthur shoved a plate of leftovers from last night's meal into his hands and hurried off. The fire was out and buried. The horses were saddled and ready, the camp was completely broken down. Not good, not good at all.

"Get-up!" Arthur ordered.

Merlin scrambled out of his bedding before Arthur could yank it out from under him. In short order his bedroll was tacked behind his horse's saddle and Arthur was mounting.

Merlin scrambled one-handed into his saddle and used his magic to keep from spilling his breakfast.

"Go ahead," Arthur said when Merlin merely looked at him."You know where we are going?"

The king's eyes flashed like lightning and Merlin swallowed.

"Right." Merlin set his horse to trot and did his best eating one handed in the saddle a new feeling of dread taking him as Arthur bit out three curses.

* * *

><p>"What is it?"<p>

Arthur's horse came alongside his.

"Ugh," Merlin squinted and studied two diverging paths. "Just making certain we are going the right way."

Arthur regarded him with a gaze that rose gooseflesh on his arms.

"I thought you said you knew where Morgana made her home?"

"I do. It's just," Merlin hesitated but a moment, "it's impossible to think with someone glaring and swearing at you every twenty paces."

Arthur seemed to consider that a moment before riding away a few feet. Merlin sighed and studied the route trying to remember all the landmarks. It took him but a moment to pick out the proper path.

He looked at Arthur who sat stiff and tense in the saddle. Last night he had been open and reflective. Now the king was- Merlin muttered a quick spell to reveal any trace of enscrollment and felt his shoulders slump. Arthur had simply become angry again. He took a breath.

"It's this way," he called indicating the proper direction.

"Finally," Arthur said impatiently.

Merlin urged his horse forward, leaving the king to follow.

* * *

><p>It was not so very much past noon when they reached the forest valley where Morgana made her home. Merlin had guided them to a position that allowed them look down upon her house without being seen. He suggested that Morgana was residing in a cellar that had once been part of an old Roman fort. Looking down upon the roof of the building he could make out faint lines in the valley floor, here and there dark colored stones peeked through. Still if he hadn't known what he was looking for he would not have spotted it until they were right on top of it. Strategically it was very well placed.<p>

"Wait here."Arthur ordered Merlin as he dismounted.

"Where are you going?"

"To scout for signs that anyone is about." He glared at the other man and started quietly down the valley slope keeping as much to the trees as possible. He searched for foot print,s tracks of people and saw nothing recent. Here and there he saw footprints partially dissolved by the rain but nothing more recent than two days ago.

Every now and again there was a slight blur on the edge of his vision but Arthur ignored it, a sign of weariness. He would rest when Morgana was taken care of and not before. His path took him to the roof of the building and Arthur kept his steps soft and quiet. He found what looked to be a chicken coop now abandoned. There were small human prints around it but they were also at least two days old.

Arthur lowered himself to the ground in front of the little house. There were a couple of narrow windows. He peeked into them and seeing no sign of Morgana or any other inhabitant felt the beginnings of frustration. He tried the door and found it unlocked. After waiting for any sign of life, any stirring, he pushed it open and waited again. When no one challenged him he entered.

Arthur studied the dark collection of underground chambers. Whomever had lived here was now gone. It had been abandoned recently for there was little dust, debris no animal tracks and nothing that suggested current habitation. There was furniture cabinets, a bed, rough hewn table, chairs but no linen, no candles, no books, no kitchenware, no clothing, no magical implements. If this had been Morgana's hiding place she had abandoned it.

"It's empty."

He turned to see Merlin standing there wearing his usual befuddled expression.

"You're certain this is the place?"

The manservant nodded.

"She kept the Femorah there," Merlin indicated a cabinet "and this was where- it doesn't matter. Where could she have gone?"

"I don't know. Merlin."

He studied the other man a moment, the confused expression, the look of surprise seemed genuine but Merlin had been deceiving him for nearly six years. Arthur heard the pounding swell of rushing blood in his ears. Had Merlin known about Morgana's hiding place for nearly a year now?

"This femorah was the thing Morgana put in your neck to control you?" Arthur rested one hand on the table.

"Yes," the confusion in Merlin grew.

"And Guinevere helped you resolve his problem?"

"Yeah."

The anger that had been swelling inside him broke. He rushed his friend, pinning him to the wall, mailed forearm against his throat.

"That was months ago Merlin, months." It came out in a snarl. "Harboring an enemy of Camelot is tantamount to treason. If you can't deliver Morgana what good are you?"

Arthur's free hand hovered near the hilt of his blade and he glared at Merlin, waiting, waiting for his reply. He did not expect the other man to disappear. He looked around and saw Merlin standing near the door.

"What are you doing?"

"You look about ready to kill. I'm not gonna just stand around and let you beat me and I'm not going to fight you with magic." Merlin darted out the door and Arthur followed at a run only Merlin was nowhere to be seen.

He stood motionless, an ocean of rage pounding in his ears and he could feel the thump of his heart against chest. He'd never actually been aware of it before. Arthur scanned valley for Merlin but only saw no sign of the other man, only the earth leading away from the cellar all churned and muddy. He focused on the churned up earth. This was important.

Arthur brought his hand to Guinevere's ring, stroked the warm metal between his thumb and forefinger. The rage receded, the sea grew calm. He saw the churned muddied earth for what it was footprints, lots of footprints, rank upon rank of them and then the most brutal pain knifed through his skull. Arthur gasped and his eyes watered, his vision blurred round the edges. He staggered two or three steps while the world did somersaults before collapsing face first in the dirt as his bowels voided themselves.

* * *

><p>AN- Thank you all so much for reading and the concern expressed by many of you about the lay-off. I'm sort of excited actually, I'm getting to write as much as I want and I'm slowly rearranging my life.:)

To guest reviewer megan: Since it has a been asked a lot throughout the course of this story I will answer this question here. Exile readers, Arthur and Guinevere will meet again in due time however remember what the great dragon told Arthur the, longer her suffers Guinevere's absence the more he will value her presence. So please be patient, Arthur and Guinevere will meet again when the time is right.

Also guest reviewers please remember I cannot answer your question via PM. I will answer them in the notes of the chapters following the review as well as on the profile page.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter 19, sneak peak: Brighter Days:<strong>_

_** to Guinevere:**_

"Well I hope this rift betwixt the two of you is well on its way to being mended. Oh and there is a note for you in the parlor Ms. Jen." Ms. Alfonsa smiled "I believe it is from Physician Pradeep."

"Physician Pradeep!" Gwen ran into the parlor missing the amused smile that Ms. Alfonsa gave her before continuing out the door.

_To Ms. Jenafere of Alfonsa's Boarding House_

_Having inquired after your character and receiving several recommendations from mutual acquaintances I have decided that you might suit or establishment quite well. I should like to offer you consideration for the physician's assistant position. If this is still your desire as well you are scheduled to meet with me five days hence at the hour of ten._


	19. The Exile Chapter: A Shadow and A Thr

_**Previously in The Exile:**_

**_Arthur Chapter 18, Two Roads_**

_Arthur brought his hand to Guinevere's ring, stroked the warm metal between his thumb and forefinger. The rage receded, the sea grew calm. He saw the churned muddied earth for what it was footprints, lots of footprints, rank upon rank of them and then the most brutal pain knifed through his skull. Arthur gasped and his eyes watered, his vision blurred round the edges. He staggered two or three steps while the world did somersaults before collapsing face first in the dirt as his bowels voided themselves._

**The Exile, Part II Jenafere, Chapter XIX: A Shadow and A Threat**

Gwen begins to get the feeling that something is wrong in Camelot and Ylsa goes to Matilde for answers.

* * *

><p>Gwen opened her eyes. The pale rays of early morning sun poured in behind her slanting across the rough planks of wooden floor. She could see nothing but the wattle and daub walls of Tesni and Alun's home and errant dust bunnies yet the hairs on her golden brown arms and the back of her neck were pricking upwards as if there was some horror in the room with her. Gwen sat up and looked around searching the early morning dark for a sign of, <em>anything<em>.

She saw only the bed Tesni and Alun slept in with their children, Ylsa sleeping soundly in her pallet and the same for Mrs. Heulwen.

After delivering the triplets neither she nor Ylsa wanted to walk back to the townhouse. Mrs. Heulwen had laid out pallets for them on the floor and both she and Ylsa had stripped to their chemises in the dark before lying down to sleep.

Now Gwen pulled on her dress and hurried outside certain that there was something. She saw only the empty street fingers of golden sun spilling down the road as the birds began their early morning song and a warm breeze stirred the leaves of trees. She looked east and then west. The pricking sensation grew to a sense of dread yet there was nothing in the street but a few pieces of litter. Gwen stared into the darkness, Camelot to the west.

The sun continued to climb, the city slowly stirred to life. The fisherman made their way down the street and the clop of hooves could be heard on the road as people began to arrive with goods for the market. Nothing happened, the hairs on the back of her neck and arms back down. Gwen went back into the house.

She had for once hoped she might sleep until late in the morning; she had certainly been exhausted when she finally laid down in her pallet last night. The rest of the household still slept and Gwen considered going back to the townhouse. No, she wanted to see what else Ylsa might do. She took her dress off and laid it back over the chair- they had draped the rest of their clothing on to prevent creases. Gwen laid back down. Perhaps if she stayed in bed she might fall asleep.

She looked toward the bed where the new family lay resting. The infants were making those tremulous noises that were somewhere between a gasp and a bleat but thankfully not crying. She did not envy them, three squalling infants, needing nursing and care. One infant was difficult enough but three seemed an impossible task. Ylsa said she had arranged help throughout the neighborhood. Gwen felt certain that Ylsa would make Tesni and her children her own responsibility for a while yet.

She rolled onto her side and looked at the midwife thinking of what Father Flaejer had said about the other woman. Ylsa really did seem to want to take care of the whole world. Were there others like Ylsa, gifted healers saving the lives of those that would otherwise be dead and living meager yet happy lives? Had Uther burned people like Ylsa at the stake?

Recalling how Ylsa had handled the bandit Gwen had some doubt as to whether or not someone with Ylsa's abilities would allow themselves to be burnt at the stake. She had the feeling that in a confrontation between Ylsa and Uther the midwife might well emerge victorious. But what about less powerful, less dynamic women? _How had Uther actually accomplished the purge?_ Guinevere rolled over onto her back and stared up at the thatch ceiling. That it had been done was obvious but if people could use magic to create soldiers that would not die how had Uther managed the purge? _How had that army been defeated?_

There were those in Camelot who believed that Uther employed sorcerers in secret. That Sir Leon or Gaius were actually wizards. Gwen of course knew that was not true but Ylsa had said there was a magic user protecting Camelot and a powerful one at that.

"Ylsa?" She whispered the midwife's name. "Ylsa?"

She heard only the midwife's deep, even breathing in response to her inquiry. She'd have to ask Ylsa about this later, had the mysterious magic user been involved in the purge somehow?

Guinevere considered the sewing she had brought with her from the townhouse. Perhaps she should get up, get started with that, she could work and think at the same time. She didn't move, her mind drifted to the hostel, that beautiful building with its warm and lovely colors, the rooftop that seemed patterned after a Kente cloth.

What might it be like to go there every day and help sick people, nurse them, ease their sufferings and perhaps on occasion nurse them back to life? She wouldn't be able to remain at the infirmary when her education was completed, they had their physician. Perhaps she could continue to travel, find some little village where she would grow a garden and be paid in chicken and fish and wool and nurse people through meazlis and deliver every baby for miles around.

Perhaps she would marry, perhaps she wouldn't but she would have many friends at least. Sooner or later there would be an orphan because there were always orphans. She would take the orphan in and raise them and teach the child everything she knew about medicine so that the villages would always have a healer. She liked this idea, it didn't excite her like other fancies, didn't bring the same irrepressible smile to her lips as thoughts of being Arthur's queen and wife did, thoughts of making Camelot a better place but it was good, yes it was….

* * *

><p>"Jen?"<p>

"Hmmm?" She said opening her eyes and blinking sunlight beamed through the house now hot and golden. She had dozed a while.

"Are you awake?" Ylsa asked.

"Yes."

"You were a peasant back in Camelot right?"

"Yes," Gwen said with a frown. "Why?"

"Never mind just had a bizarre dream." Ylsa yawned and sat up. "Tesni, Alun are you awake?"

"Yes," Tesni murmured.

Gwen detected the smacking sound of an infant nursing and Ylsa got up from her pallet. She could hear Mrs. Heulwen moving about the house preparing breakfast. Gwen got to her feet and saw Alun and Tesni sitting up in bed. Tesni was nursing one of the infants and Alun held the other, gazing at the child with adoration. Ylsa took the third infant in her arms, Gwen assumed to give a more thorough examination than she had done the previous night.

"Ylsa if you don't need my help I'm going to help Mrs. Heulwen with breakfast."

"Thank you I'm starved," Ylsa replied.

Guinevere couldn't help but chuckle. Some things never changed.

"Ms. Jen," Alun looked up from the child in his arms his expression one of pure delight. "Come have a look at him?"

"Of course," Gwen smiled and crossed the space in a few steps.

"Gently Tesni," Ylsa said. "Ease the nipple into his little mouth, he'll latch right on."

Gwen leaned forward a bit. Looking on over Alun's shoulder as both watched, this important moment with baited breath. Gwen saw women nursing infants and small children every day; it was a common enough thing. But this quiet moment when a new mother feeds an infant for the first time was the most intimate of things and no matter how often repeated always special.

Tesni did as Ylsa directed. The nipple brown and beading with milk brushed the infant's lip. The child didn't react right away, but then he caught perhaps the scent or taste of milk cause in the next second his pink little mouth latched onto his mothers breast. There were pleased smiles all around except for Tesni who winced and grimaced.

"It will take some getting used." Ylsa reassured her.

"My little girl she's so smart, she latched on right away." Tesni started to smile.

"Every infant is different." Ylsa said and returned her attention to the infant in her arms.

Gwen watched the two of them, Tesni stroking the infant's tiny face, Alun watching them with an expression bordering on awe. How long ago since she'd left Camelot? Five months now, she sighed.

"Ms. Jen," Alun looked at her. "Would you like to hold him?"

She looked at father and son and felt an ache in her arms.

"I'm going to help prepare breakfast," she said. "I'm certain we are all hungry."

"Mhmmm," Tesni and Ylsa said in unison and Gwen ducked round the curtain.

Mrs. Heulwen was making porridge for breakfast with poached eggs. She put Gwen to work over the stove tending the eggs something she was happy to do. There were salt and herbs for the eggs, nutmeg and stewed apples for the porridge. Breakfast, while not as rich as Ms. Alfonsa's fare, smelled delicious.

"Have you been assisting Ylsa for very long?" Mrs. Heulwen asked.

"This is the first time."

"Oh." Mrs. Heulwen looked at her a moment. The older woman pursed her long thin mouth. She shared the same green eyes as her son but there was a hardness to them that Alun lacked.

"She allowed me to accompany her because she needed another pair of hands and I wanted to see her magic. I'd never seen magic like that before."

"No. It's a shame though all that magic and she couldn't have made sure Tesni had three boys."

"Three, boys?" Gwen said feeling somehow as if Mrs. Heulwen had groped her.

"Yes of course."

"But two is plenty." She knew that boys were often preferred but two healthy boys, three healthy infants, Tesni well, wasn't that plenty enough?

"Oh well of course but girls are such trouble, they're sly and lascivious and you have to provide them with a bride price."

Gwen listened with widened eyes while Mrs. Heulwen rattled on naming the long list of the problems with girl children. She was making up her mind to say something when the older woman called Ylsa and Alun over to eat. Gwen spooned up a bowl of porridge for Tesni adding stewed apples and nuts and serving of eggs for the new mother.

Gwen walked round the curtain that divided the tiny home.

"I brought you some breakfast," she said with a smile.

Tesni was cuddling one of the babies, cooing at the infant and smiling.

"Thank you."

Gwen leaned over the girl. The infant had unfocused blue eyes and a cap of slick black hair. She could not help but smile as she waited for Tesni to put the infant down.

"I wonder how long before we see what she truly looks like?" Tesni asked tucking the girl beside her brother.

"It will take a little while, perhaps even a few weeks."

"Oh."

Gwen placed the tray across Tesni's lap.

"Ms. Jen," Tesni whispered and closed a hand round Gwen's forearm before she could straighten up. "I do not care what my mother-in-law says. I love my daughter best."

"Good." Gwen said by way of reply.

"Jen are you going to come and eat?" Ylsa called.

"Of course," she replied. "Do you need anything else Tesni?"

"No, thank you Ms. Jen," Tesni smiled at her.

Gwen looked at the young mother and her infants for a long moment before going back around the curtain to her own breakfast.

"The infants are small but well formed," Ylsa said as Gwen sat down at the rough hewn table. "We are blessed in that as they will not require any special care."

The midwife broke off a piece her small loaf of rye bread in half and dipped into the yolk of her egg.

"And Tesni?" Alun asked.

Guinevere looked at the young husband. The lines in his brow, his eyes narrowed, he seemed to be holding his breath and his breakfast plate was untouched. Ylsa seemed to notice all of this in that moment as well. She pulled her attention from her meal and gave Alun's arm a squeeze above the wrist.

"Her labor was hard, the breech birth in particular, but" Ylsa smiled now her whole attention on Alun, "though she is exhausted, her body will recover as long as she is supported by her family."

Ylsa glanced at Mrs. Heulwen. The older women simply ate her meal without a word. The midwife sniffed and turned her attention back to her meal.

"May and Zang have agreed to come by and help out with Tesni's chores in the evening as well some of the other baby care, like bathing them."

"That's all well and good," Mrs. Heulwen looked up from her plate. "But what about nursing all these babies?" There was some challenge in Mrs. Heulwen's expression and Gwen frowned.

Ylsa took a deep breath and Gwen got the sense that there was no love lost between the two women.

"Susan and Ellis just lost babies to meazlis but are themselves healthy; they have agreed to help with nursing as have Gwendolyn and Ceri," the midwife said.

Mrs. Heulwen glared her nostrils flaring.

"I do not understand why anyone has agreed to help this slattern of a girl!"*

Gwen's eyes widened.

"How does a girl even become pregnant with three babies at once?" Mrs. Heulwen demanded.

Ylsa closed her eyes and let out a long slow breath before giving Mrs. Heulwen a hard look and Gwen stared at the older woman finally understanding her hostility. There were some not all but some who believed that two babies was a sign of infidelity that a man could only father one child and therefore the second child must have another father. Elyan had been a twin but the belief was not so common in Camelot and her mother had been spared those accusations.

"Mother," Alun glared at his mother across the table. "Tesni is a good and faithful wife. If Ms. Ylsa says that two or more babies is natural and healthy I believe her. We're going to do what Ms. Ylsa says."

"Even if that is true why are we keeping the girl-child?" The older woman asked. "They are nothing but trouble."

Gwen sucked in a shocked breath.

"Drop her on a church doorstep and be done with it," the older woman said

Alun shot a glance at Ylsa who gave him a firm nod.

Gwen got the distinct impression that they had been expecting some such statement from her.

"Mother-" There was a quaver in Alun's voice as he spoke but he looked directly at Mrs. Heulwen, "I am the man of this house. Tesni is my wife, you will respect that, and none of my children are being left on a church doorstep." He finished firmly and Ylsa smiled.

"Well said Alun," Ylsa looked pointedly from the young husband to the mother. "Further Mrs. Heulwen I have worked very hard to insure the healthy birth of your grandchildren and make certain that your family would have all the assistance it needs during this time. For this work you have paid me a few coppers, dried fish, sewing, laundry and carpentry services and while I am happy to work for so little I am never happy to see my work squandered by those who do not value it."

Alun ducked his head and Gwen felt her eyes go wide feeling a moment of embarrassment for the poor young man. Mrs. Heulwen opened her mouth to speak but Ylsa shot her a glare with such venom that Gwen quailed and Mrs. Heulwen shrank back into her chair.

"On this day I make you a promise," Ylsa dark eyes narrowed and her already dark skin grew darker still with the heat of blood and anger, "if one hair is harmed on that girl child's head, if she falls ill, seems sickly or I judge her to be uncared for, I shall use all my considerable connections to have you, Mrs. Heulwen, evicted from this city. Good day Alun." Ylsa started for the door. "Tesni, my dear Midwife Carin will be paying you a call this evening. Come Jen we're leaving."

Ylsa strode out the door leaving Gwen to gather up Ylsa's medicine bag and the sewing Gwen had brought with her. She waved a quick good-bye to Tesni and hurried out the door.

"It's the same everywhere you realize," Ylsa said when they were out in the street. "Do you know what people do when they see how well I care for my charges? Do you know what they ask?" Ylsa stopped and looked at her expectantly hands balled into fist on her hips.

"No."

"Why, am I wasting, my talent? I have attended births where the girl is clearly too young to be pregnant, births where an order has been given to preserve the life of the child over the life of the mother. Who will bear their next generation of precious boys, who loves them, who cares for them but women? Yet somehow we are the useless ones. And it's everywhere, make no mistake Jen. People from all over the world live here in Wyeledon and I see that thought, the devaluing of women expressed amongst all peoples by men and women alike. And it is for that reason Jen that I shall always attend women." Ylsa dark eyes were alive with the heat of her indignation. "Someone must love us."

Gwen had nothing really to say to that and the two women continued walking.

"See Jen we mustn't let them take magic from us." Ylsa said suddenly "Yes it has been abused but a man cannot marry you off when your body is too young to bear the congress between a man and woman or the resultant offspring, a man cannot force himself upon when you have your own power. Women must not turn against magic. A sword in the hand of an evil man, can take away your will just as much as a witch with a potion."

**BREAK**

They came in just as Ms. Alfonsa was heading out. The older woman was conservatively dressed as usual and young Tony was with her.

"Ylsa, Ms. Jen, how was Tesni's labor?"

The boy gave her a little wave and Gwen waved back.

"Both Tesni and the babies are quite well, two boys and one girl." Ylsa replied.

"Alun must be beside himself," Ms. Alfonsa said with a friendly smile.

"Yes." Ylsa said.

"And what did you think Jen?" Ms. Alfonsa turned toward her.

She paused a moment.

"It was miracle," Gwen said.

"Well I hope this rift betwixt the two of you is well on its way to being mended. Oh and there is a note for you in the parlor Ms. Jen." Ms. Alfonsa fanned herself, "I believe it is from Physician Pradeep."

"Physician Pradeep!" Gwen ran into the parlor missing the amused smile that Ms. Alfonsa gave her before continuing out the door.

_To Ms. Jenafere of Alfonsa's Boarding House_

_Having inquired after your character I have received glowing responses from several mutual acquaintances and should like to speak with myself to determine if you would be suitably for employment at his hospice. I should like to offer you consideration for the physician's assistant position. If this is still your desire as well you are scheduled to meet with me ten days hence at the hour of ten._

_If this position is no longer to your liking or some previous appointment makes the interview impossible please send word right away so that other arrangements might be made. Otherwise I shall meet with you then. _

Gwen read the note several times not only did she have an interview but she had recommendations. Smiling, she danced in place with her excitement; there was so much to do.

* * *

><p>Ylsa pulled the pins from her hair and put them into the wooden case that held her accessories. Her eyes strayed to the little drawer in which she'd tucked the silk wrapped hair clip that Matilde had tried to give Jen. She studied it for a moment and then hurried to shut the bedroom door. Everyone except Jena- Guinevere that was what Matilde had called her- was out and Jen herself had dozed off in the parlor.<p>

With the door shut and locked Ylsa sat down on her bed and unwrapped the clip. It was a beautiful gleaming bronze, the sun rays curved in such a way that they seemed to ripple and shimmer. She placed the clip carefully in her palm and shut her eyes. Her hands were very sensitive and though her gift was mostly for healing she could do some other magic. Her brother insisted that she could probably do more if she tried but Ylsa had little interest in that.

She closed her eyes and breathed deep settling into a light trance. Everything Matilde produced was imbued with an aura. Jenafere's clip had an aura about it as if it had been used by Jenafere for years save there was nothing of Jenafere's essence or aura about somehow it was connected to Jen without being connected to her. Ylsa did not understand how that could be so but she could reach out to that essence just as she would when dealing with the auras of her patients and she hoped summon a vision.

It was faint at first, like a giggle or a Sunday afternoon, warm and golden whatever it was that flowed from this barrette. It expanded and grew, a moment of sweetness that poured outward rippling like a placid lake to calm and soothe all that it touched, all who drank from it, all that swam in it's waters and even those who merely looked upon it. Ylsa let herself drift on that lake, felt worry and concern flow away from her taken by the gentle waters. Her cares so big in her mind and heart were tiny things for something so cool and majestic.

Yet something ugly flickered on the periphery, a foulness that grew and surrounded the lake. Once surrounded the miasma began to flow inward slowly at first but more quickly with each passing moment.

Ylsa skimmed over the water looking for a way to reverse that poison flood but saw none. The lake like all bodies of water cleansed itself but the pollutant, the foul humor having found its entrance exploited it flowing in at an overwhelming rate, until the lake sat stagnate, filthy and stinking. It was then that she felt the toxic humors reaching out to her, to enter her lungs, make her nauseas and pull her down into the poison depths. Panic flooded her and Ylsa gasped taking in more of the poisoned air.

-"Ylsa!"

She jerked jolted out of the vision and looked over her shoulder.

"Ylsa are you well?" Jenafere called to her. "You locked the door, I need to get in."

She thought about the lake, the pollution.

"Ylsa."

She could still feel the taint of poison in her lungs.

"Ylsa come unlock the door," Jenafere insisted.

She pulled herself together.

"Right, just a moment." Quickly Ylsa wrapped the barrette in the black silk it had come with and tossed it into the little chest. "Sorry Jen." She hurried to the door and unlocked it. "Sorry."

"What were you doing?"

"Meditating, I assumed you'd be sleeping for a while yet."

"No, I'm going to have a bath."

Ylsa watched the other woman get a clean chemise and kirtle as well as a cake of soap and a skin cream that she mixed for herself. More than ever she wanted to ask Guinevere about Camelot, about the phrase peasant-queen. Had Matilde seen the poisoned lake? The other woman left and Ylsa laid back on her bed.

_"Your enemy's victory shall be her bane, the peasant-Queen's part remains. What the wise man cannot yet see is that Albion's destiny requires not two but three. Less all be over born by fear, history turns on the choice of Guinevere."_

So there were three people in the fortune, the enemy, the peasant queen and the wise man. She felt certain that the peasant-queen referred to her friend. Was the enemy Morgana? And who was the wise man? And who was this unmentioned required third? The required three could be the Enemy, the Wise Man and the Peasant Queen but that didn't make sense did it? Ylsa liked riddles and mysteries. Exploring them was as natural to her as breathing. As a child she'd spent hours using her gift to explore inner workings of her body and then the bodies of the people around her. By the time she'd gone to school there had been very little left to learn, only the fine detailed control that allowed her to do her job so well. But she had not lost her interest in riddles and mysteries and Jenafere, nay Guinevere, had until this moment been just that.

Now though there seemed to be something more, there was a danger she was certain of that and only a fool went unprepared toward danger. She thought about the corrupted lake, poison fumes steaming off the waters reaching out to infect her. Was that what Matilde had meant about being overborne? What part of Matilde's fortune referred to the lake, Albion or the peasant queen? Ylsa sat up, all thoughts of sleep gone from her mind. She was going to see Matilde.

* * *

><p>Ylsa slipped out of the townhouse while Gwen was still in her bath. She hadn't gone far when she saw Farmer Dietricht with his mule cart; his wife Jude was one of her mothers.<p>

"Farmer Dietricht, "she called out to him.

"Ms. Ylsa," he nodded pleasantly and brought his cart to stop. "Where you off to? Climb on up and I'll take you as far as I can." He extended a hand to her and pulled her up onto the seat beside him with one great burly arm.

"Thank you, Farmer Dietricht."

"You're welcome, Ms. Ylsa."

While Adras' cart was enclosed for carrying people comfortably farmer Detriecht's cart was a more utilitarian vehicle. The open air box held his blanket covered goods for the market and Ylsa had to sit beside him on the driver's bench.

"How is Gale?"

"He grows well and strong, his mother is well too. I know you always cared about your mothers." He smiled again and started the mules to moving.

"I'm glad to hear Jude is doing well. What's in the cart?"

"Some early potatoes and greens for the market, it's been a good season so far, grains growing well and we haven't had drought or pestilence."

"Yes a good season we should all hope it remains that way." Ylsa thought about the lake in her vision. "Yes we should all hope it remains so."

* * *

><p>Gwen's bath drew up all the weariness she'd been expecting to feel; when she'd done nap was in order. She went looking first for Abebech wanting to make certain that the girl didn't need anything but the house was empty Ylsa had left while she was in the bath and Abebech had most like gone with Luisa to the market.<p>

Abebech was making a smooth recovery and Ms. Alfonsa expected that she would soon go down to the hostel. There was a bed for her there and she might learn any number of skills that would allow her to support herself in the future. It would also now be known that girl was under the protection of the townhouse and by extension Father Flaejer and Adras. She would have no further trouble from the procurers of Wyeledon. Plus there was a nurse working in the infirmary whose family had come from Eritrea. The hope was that the two would get along and Abebech could go into the nurse's household as a daughter or sister. A happy ending appeared to be in sight. Gwen laid down for her nap pleased that things seemed to be going well for her household. Sleep came the moment she shut her eyes.

Gwen woke from her nap to light of the westering sun and the feeling of dread raising the hairs on the back of her neck and arms. She could not recall dreams but she was certain they had been unpleasant.

She got out of bed and went to the room's only window. She looked toward the westering sun and Camelot sprang to mind. She swallowed something was happening there, but then something was always happening in Camelot. Camelot had powerful enemies, and she now knew had them in part because of its own actions. She thought of Ylsa's words, of Camelot 's powerful protector. Considered the fact that whatever was happening in Camelot always somehow worked itself out.

She had betrayed Arthur and so betrayed Camelot. Camelot was nothing to do with her anymore. Wearing only her chemise Gwen went downstairs to find her housemates.

* * *

><p>Farmer Deitricht couldn't take her all the way but he saved her about half an hour's walk. Like Ms. Alfonsa Matilde lived in a townhouse. Unlike Ms. Alfonsa Matilde's home as well as the homes around it was far wealthier. The houses themselves were of a similar size but they had large lush gardens and walls that screened out the traffic and noise of the rest of the city. These were not grand estates mind you but certainly large, lovely homes.<p>

Matilde's townhome was bright yellow stucco with green timber, her garden blooming bright with shrubs and flowers. Ylsa lifted a gleaming brass doorknocker, carved in the shape of an owl's head buffeted by partially unfurled wings and dropped it to cause an echoing thunk. Ylsa stepped back from the door as she waited and surveyed Matilde's home. It was not all that different from the Ms. Alfonsa's townhouse in its size or structure but where the town house was a simple building with a few decorative cornices, window box flowers, shutters, flowers near the side entrance and a garden in back Matilde has a lavish building.

Matilde's home was set back from the street with a please flower garden walled away to protect it from the traffic of the road. She had three gleaming stained glass windows that showed the virgin and her ascension. Her doorknob was a gleaming brass as were the hinges and other fastenings in her doors and windows. Maltide's fortune came from the guidance she offered to wealthy merchants. Her market days were payment to the spirit's that guided her.

Matilde's butler, an older man with a severe look about him greeted her and showed her not to the parlor but instead took her to an area of Matilde's garden at the back of the house.

The seer sat at a circular stone table with benches enclosed by trees, studying a lay of cards.

"Welcome Ylsa," Matilde looked up from her reading, mild curiosity the only thing in her expression.

"Thank you Matilde."

The garden was comfortably cooled by shade trees, fragrant with the pleasant scents of sage, myrrh and thyme. The seer wore a high collard gown of deep blue green, creamy white lace trimmed the neck line and cuffs of her sleeves. Her hazel eyes were dark in the light of the shady garden and he red brown hair was neatly confined to chignon at the nape of her neck.

"I've come to you about Guinevere." Ylsa said sitting down on one of the stone benches. "You gave her a bronze barrette perhaps three months ago."

"I have not forgotten her," Matilde nodded ever so slightly.

"She won't wear it, touch it, look at it or even talk about it," Ylsa said counting off the things Guinevere would not do on her fingers.

"Yes she was rather, reluctant, when I saw her," Matilde replied.

Ylsa sighed. "Can you tell me what you saw when you made the barrette?"

"Ylsa, you know I cannot tell you that."

"This is important Matilde, Guinevere may have dangerous enemies. The witch, who rent the worlds, may well be her enemy."

Matilde's face tightened for just a moment, a cramped look entered her expression to be replaced a moment later by the same cool façade she'd since the start of the interview. It came to Ylsa then that Matilde had been expecting her with these very questions, d_amned Seer. _

"You have no intention of answering my questions, do you?"

"No I do not." Matilde's eyes flickered silvery-gold in hazel irises and a tingle of fear walked down's Ylsa her spine.

"I-I have to go." Ylsa got to her feet; she should not have come here. She took a few steps and stopped, confused for moment. _She needed to go home. _Ylsa started back toward the road and stopped again. She had questions.

The vision of the poisoned lake swam into her memory. Yes she had questions! _But she needed to leave._ She took another step toward the road. _No! _There was danger- _In asking questions. _Ylsa froze, something was wrong. She breathed long and deep concentrating. Matilde had not answered here questions. She thought of Matilde's eyes, recalled the gold and silver dance of fire in the other woman's irises and growled low and soft. Matilde had tried to manipulate her.

Ylsa stalked back to the garden summer breeze whipping around her.

"How dare you presume to toy with me Matilde?" She glowered down at the other woman letting the power that fueled her healing surge and shimmer in the air about her like the appearance of water in the distant desert. "I am no magic-less child come to beg the name of a future lover."

The other woman merely shrugged. "Calm yourself healer."

"I am a healer; people's lives are in danger-"

"People's live are always in danger." Matilde responded. "Vikings, Saxons, Gauls, Goths are always a threat. Beasts and monsters come out from the wood, old things that should not exist crawl out of decaying prisons. We are dying from the day we are born, Ylsa; you know this better than anybody."

"But-

"My magic has its price and its burden as does yours. Do not ask for that which you yourself would not give."

Ylsa felt her anger deflate.

"Very well will you help me to interpret my vision?"

Matilde's eyes narrowed and she leaned forward a bit.

"Your vision?"

"I pulled it from the barrette."

Curiosity and caution fought a war in the woman's face at long last she sighed as she rested her palms on her knees.

"Very well sit down and tell me what you saw."

Ylsa did as Matilde bade her.

"So a healer sees an infected body of water. I am, fascinated." She raised her tea cup and took a long slow sip. "I cannot tell you much but I will say this- your friend's time to choose is as yet a ways off. Her enemy, however, remains a threat. She will dog her shadow and the menace of all that Guinevere holds dear. If you would be her friend then use your skill and protect her, otherwise cast her out and spare yourself the danger. But," she paused again and Ylsa thought that perhaps it was for dramatic effect, "if you choose to stand with your friend know that the rise is worth the fall."

"The rise is worth the fall?" Ylsa repeated. "Can't you tell me if I am right, if her enemy is Morgana?"

"I've said enough. If you would know more than you must bring Guinevere to me. Now you must go." Matilde rang the hand bell that rested on the table beside her. Seconds later two large men appeared. Not one to misread a signal Ylsa left, feeling more confused than ever.

Though she saw people she knew Ylsa did not hail anyone. She walked to the townhouse dragging her feet all the way, thinking, and pondering Matilde's words. Even the warmth of the day or the stink of the market did not draw her attention.

_-her enemy will dog her shadow and be the menace of all that Guinevere holds dear-_

She thought about Jenafere, tough, stubborn, hard working, brave and honest and wondered how it was that a handmaid could have drawn the ire of a powerful foe. How a handmaid might affect the future of a nation? Jenafere was brave and compassionate but she was no fool nor was she a manipulator or social climber; Ylsa knew the type. Jenafere was something else.

_-cast her out and spare yourself the danger-_

If only Matilde had confirmed that Morgana was or was not Jenafere's enemy.

The lady Morgana had colluded with King Cenred to seize the throne of Camelot. Prince Arthur and his knights had somehow defeated an army that rumor said could not die. Many dismissed the tales about the magically strengthened army, after all how could men without magic defeat an army that could not die? Others believed that King Uther was a hypocrite and kept a few pocket sorcerers somewhere to call up when needed.

Few knew the truth. Camelot had a protector, a wise and powerful sorcerer or sorceress, a person who could very possibly reshape the future of Camelot and all of Britannia. But if Guinevere was so important why was she in Wyeledon? For the first time since resigning all the privileges of being a Beaune witch Ylsa considered asking her brother Lucian for help. But Beaune witches never did anything that did not advance some scheme.

_-history turns on the choice of Guinevere-_

No, if she was important the last thing Guinevere needed was the eye of the Beaune family on her. Amongst the magical community Morgana was rumored to be a seer if that was true then perhaps she saw that whatever choice Guinevere was destined to make would be against her wishes and so wanted her out of Camelot.

She reached the townhouse at last and stood a moment on the doorstep, the evening sun washing over her. What was she going to do about Jen?

Feminine laughter greeted Ylsa as she entered the townhouse and she smiled. She found Guinevere, Synove, Kerenza and Abebech in the parlor dressed only their chemises and stays.

_-the rise is worth the fall-_

"Hello my lovelies."

"Hi Ylsa. Jen was just telling how you had words with Mrs. Heuwlen," Kerenza said. "I knew it was only a matter of time." Kerenza smirked and Ylsa rolled her eyes.

"Well I'm relieved that those babies were born well. If Tesni and her family need any help Abebech and I will be happy to pay them a call. Isn't that right Abebech," Synove said.

The girl gave a firm nod and Ylsa frowned. Abebech did not speak much and that worried her. Still she was up and about and enjoying herself so perhaps they had no cause for concern.

"You should join us Ylsa," Guinevere patted the spot on the bench next to her and smiled.

"Thank you but I'm quite tired." She yawned then. "I'm going to have a nap I think."

"Rest well."

Ylsa turned and headed upstairs. She heard their chatter pick up again.

_-If you would be her friend then use your skill and protect her, otherwise cast her out and spare yourself the danger-_

* * *

><p>While her days were peaceful in those wee hours of the morning or the long hours of the evening, that feeling of dread, returned and more and more she became convinced that something was amiss in Camelot. And yet what was <em>she, <em>banished peasant, and betrayer of kings, to do about it? She had a new life here.

Gwen threw herself into studying for the interview, looking after Abebech and finishing her orders. She had no time for trips to the hostel or hazy warnings. She wanted all of the clothing she was working on completed. If she were hired to the infirmary there would be little time for other work. So she spent many an hour at Abebech's bedside sewing or studying. Sometimes the two of them sat and talked or played a game. As the girl grew stronger they began to take little walks around the townhouse, first short strolls in the garden behind the house and then longer to the end of the block and back, round the block and so forth.

Abebech asked questions about Wyeledon and Ylsa in particular. She knew it was Ylsa's magic that had saved her life; she was impressed by Ylsa's strength saying that they were blessed to have such a powerful witch serving them. The girl talked very little about her own home saying only that it was Eritrea and across the sea.

"You were not awake when Ms. Alfonsa left this morning but she told me that Father Flaejer would like you to come down to the hostel when you are well enough." Gwen said as they rounded a corner.

"Father Flaejer is the priest that confronted the men who were trying to abduct me?"

"Yes."

Abebech smiled her teeth bright against her nearly midnight colored skin.

"There is a nurse there. Her family is from Eritrea but she was born in Wyeledon."

"Oh, I had begun to think that Wyeledon had no natives."

"It does seem that everyone here is from somewhere else. Ms. Alfonsa, Luisa and Father Flaejer are from Iberia, Synove from Denmark, Ylsa from France, Kerenza's village is very far north of here and I came from Camelot. That's quite a list," Gwen said having never truly considered that she had yet to meet anyone in Wyeledon that had actually been born there. "I've yet to meet this nurse," Gwen said at last. "But I now find I am curious to meet a native of Wyeledon."

Abebech laughed a light birdlike sound and the two women walked on.

"You always seem sad when you say the word Camelot."

"Do I?" Gwen asked.

"What is it like? You seem to miss it so."

Gwen studied the girl a moment her skin like midnight, her cheekbones sitting so high that her eyes seemed to slant, chin that drew to a point like a fox and all of it open with the curiosity that only a child can have.

"It's not like this," she said."I lived in the capital city mind you so we had three and four story buildings. The tallest towers of the palace were even five stories. There were many professions there and there were nobles with their rich costumes and ways, like and unlike merchants, but it's a tenth of this place. I think also it is a more honorable place. I did not think that before those men attacked you but it would not have happened in Camelot not in the middle of the day in a public street for everyone to see. There are brothels and such but nothing like what happens here." Gwen shook her head.

"I suppose that I was blessed that it happened where it happened," the girl replied toying with the cross that hung from her rosary and crossed herself.

"Here we are back at the house," Gwen said as they drew even with the front door of the townhouse.

"I am tired actually. I think I shall lie down for a while." The two women went inside. "I think I shall spend some time in prayer before my nap." Abebech said.

"Very well." Gwen went into the room she shared with the other ladies as Abebech went into Ms. Alfonsa's room. Abebech was still using Ms. Alfonsa's room as the older woman was the only person with a bed that would sleep two. Gwen got her sewing from the bedside cabinet and headed back outside. The summer afternoon was too warm and pleasant to spend it in the parlor.

It had been her intention to work but Gwen found herself yawning and blinking, lulled by the sweet fragrance of the flowers, the droning of bumble bees and the warmth of the afternoon sun.

* * *

><p>Gwen started awake a sob in her throat and she brushed at tears on her cheeks. There wasn't simply something happening in Camelot something was wrong with Arthur. She saw in her mind's eye not the garden behind the townhouse but a boy at the bottom of a well pleading to her for help.<p>

_No! _She told herself dreams nothing more, she'd sundered her path from Arthur and Camelot the moment she touched her lips to Lancelot's.

She looked into the garden full and lush with its summer growth. While Ms. Alfonsa did not have a wall around her home she had a simple wooden fence that enclosed the property behind her house. Roses and wisteria had been trained to grow all along the fence. Two great trees, one oak and one willow provided shade in the summer afternoon. Flowering shrubs, violets, daisies and impatiens brought pink, yellow, orange and blue to garden making it a delight to the eye and mind.

Guinevere told herself not to think about the wood in the dream or the boy in the well. Told herself to go back to sewing. She'd only just picked up her sewing when she heard the soft tread of one of her housemates, Kerenza?

She looked over her shoulder and saw Kerenza coming toward her. Alchemist logs in hand.

"Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all," Gwen said and ducked her head, turning her attention back to her work. She did not want Kerenza to that she was upset.

Kerenza sat down on the stool she'd brought with her and Gwen picked up her sewing. Instead of Adras' copper colored formal length tunic, needle and thread she saw rough rope in childish hands. The feelings of dread she'd been having recently surged and her hands started to shake.

_'Guinevere,' the boy in her dream called her and she could hear desperate fear in his voice. _

"Arthur," she didn't realize she'd said his name aloud until she looked up and saw Kerenza looking at her faced puzzled.

"Are you unwell?"

"I'm fine." Her voice quavered and betrayed her even as she said it and her stomach soured. _Boy's face drew further away… _ Gwen put down her sewing and ran into the house.

Kerenza caught up to her in the parlor staring out the window looking toward the west, toward Camelot.

"Jen," she started as she felt Kerenza's hand on her arm. "Perhaps you should lie down."

"No! Everything is fine!" She wrung her hands even as she said it.

Kerenza arched one long red brow.

"It is?" Kerenza looked down at her hands and Gwen dropped them to her side.

She saw true concern in Kerenza's pale gray eyes even as the hairs on her arms pricked. She looked west for the briefest moment. _Nothing must be wrong with Arthur and yet- _she looked back at Kerenza. The other woman's expression was all patience and consideration.

_-If she'd had her way she would have chosen Ylsa to confide in but ever since they'd returned from the delivering Tesni's babies she'd gotten the feeling that the midwife was now avoiding her.-_

"Do alchemist study dreams?" Gwen asked.

"Yes." Kerenza's face brightened, "come sit down."

She let Kerenza tug her toward the padded bench and they say down.

"Tell me what did you dream?"

Gwen bit her lip before beginning.

"I've been having this feeling for perhaps a week, a terrible feeling, a sense of oncoming dread," _Like the day Dad died,_ "but only briefly, mainly in the morning or the evening. Just now I feel asleep sewing and dreamt I was a little girl playing in the wood near my home. I heard a boy calling for help; he sounded very miserable and wretched so I ran toward his cries until I came to a well."

She saw the pale face, small and desperate, framed by a halo of blonde hair.

"He knew me, called me by Jenafere," _'Guinevere' _"my name but I couldn't make out the features of his face." _Help me_.

She glanced at Kerenza and saw the other woman watching her intently.

"I ran back toward the city but came to my home in the woods. We never lived in the woods mind you but there it was. My parents were there. I asked them for help but they were busy talking, eating. I found some rope, a good length of it. I was certain it was long enough and then I ran back to the well as fast as I could. I tied the rope round a tree and lowered it to him, it should have been enough but he said it was just out of reach. I ran back home, got more rope and hurried back to the well. I added it but," Gwen paused.

"It wasn't enough," Kerenza added.

Gwen nodded."I went back and forth so many times. I got tired, it started to get dark and I could hear him calling, growing more miserable as it got darker. I fell at one point. I was so exhausted, the sunset and you know how the woods are on a moonless night. I couldn't see my hand in front of my face but he kept calling, kept begging me for help and he sounded so sad and scared and his voice started getting further away."Guinevere ran her hands through her hair and felt tightness in her throat, something was wrong.

"I couldn't stand but I forced myself to crawl toward him. I couldn't let him get away but I moved so slowly and his voice got further and further away, like a whisper, like a memory and then your knocking woke me up."

Gwen hugged herself and Kerenza looked at her head cocked to one side.

"Did you know the boy in the well?"

"Perhaps, yes." She admitted. "Do you think it might mean something Kerenza?" Guinevere rung her hands as she asked.

"I don't know. Is he someone here in Wyeledon?"

"No," Gwen shook her head.

Kerenza was silent, her expression giving away nothing of what she was thinking.

"Do _you_ think it means anything?"Gwen asked again.

"Do you?"

"A question with a question?"

"You do though?"Kerenza repeated.

"Yes," Guinevere admitted. She didn't want there to be anything wrong with Arthur not when leagues and betrayal divided them. She needed him to be well and happy.

"Most alchemists believe that dreams are only about the dreamer but my mother was a rational woman and she held very firmly to certain things, particularly what our dreams might mean. If you dreamt strongly of another she believed that you should inquire after them, write to them or call upon them, whatever is necessary to ascertain their state."

"I can't write him."

"Can you inquire with another?"

Guinevere nodded.

"Then write to that person," Kerenza said firmly.

"It's probably nothing."

"What's probably nothing?" Synove entered wearing a sleeveless summer dress of deep blue, her bare round arms as sun warmed as the rest of her.

"Jen dreamt something terrible has befallen a friend of hers," Kerenza said this casually as if prophetic dreams of doom and death were a daily occurrence.

Synove's mouth formed a perfect little 'O' and her dark brows knitted together. "You must write them? Do you have paper?" Synove asked.

"I'm certain it is nothing," Guinevere insisted.

"Let me tell Synove what happened," Kerenza said tone suggesting that Synove would differ with her assessment that it was nothing.

Guinevere nodded her assent and Synove sat down on in one of the parlor chairs.

"But you must write home," Synove insisted when Kerenza finished.

"I don't know."

"Listen to me a moment Jen," Kerenza said." I've known you some months now." Kerenza spoke slowly and firmly. "You and I are alike. We are calm, reasoned, thoughtful, not prone to hysterics or easily rattled. You feel that something is wrong don't you?"

"Yes," she whispered, drawn in by Kerenza's sudden intensity.

"Well that settled that then," Synove said firmly. "Let us go to the scribner's, get some paper and find someone to carry this letter to Camelot. Stay here I am going to get out shawls from upstairs and then we are going." Synove gave them a look that said she would not tolerate argument before heading out of the room.

* * *

><p>The scribner's was simple, white and brown two story stucco and timber sandwiched between a candle maker and a cobbler. Paper of different weights, colors and quality lined a wall of shelves, there were also writing tables with chairs, inkwells and quills bound to the table by leather cord.<p>

Gwen purchased plain but sturdy paper, an inkwell was filled and she sat down to write her letter. Synove and Kerenza surprised her by doing the same.

Gwen let her letter ramble a bit, greeting Gwaine, reassuring him of her well being, paying compliments to his family, asking after the others before finally inquiring after Arthur. She did not name him of course only called him He with a capital H' but Gwaine would know of whom she asked.

Guinevere read over her letter looking for anything she might have missed before signing. She made a couple of additions and signed. She'd still have to find someone to carry it to Camelot but with the letter written some of the worry that had been riding her eased. For a few of a few coppers the scribner offered to hold the letter and send it with anyone headed toward Camelot. Merchant trains, wanders, circuses, actors and travelers regularly stopped in to collect letters and deliver them to their villages, town, castles, etc…If she found someone before he did then all her coppers would be given back to her. Gwen left the letter along with two coppers in the scribner's office. He would supply her with a written receipt as well as the name and date of whomever took the letter.

"Feeling better?" Kerenza asked as they left the scribner's.

"Yes actually." Gwen smiled.

"Good," Synove said, "there is a new bard playing over at The Lace Glove why don't we stop in?"

Feeling lighter of heart and mind Guinevere agreed as did Kerenza and the three women headed out for an afternoon on the town.

**BREAK**

Feeling some sense of accomplishment at writing the letter Guinevere sought out Ylsa when they returned home later that evening.

Ylsa had been happily helping her with her studies from the moment she'd mentioned her interest in medicine; the only time that had stopped was Gwen had discovered that Ylsa was a witch. Everything that Ylsa had shown her since then had convinced her that Uther had surely been wrong. Not wrong on all accounts regarding magic, people certainly used magic for ill purposes but it could be used for good ends as well. If the other woman had decided not to be her friend that was fine but she wanted to make certain that it was not because Ylsa believed that she still thought poorly of magic users.

She knocked on the still room door.

"Come in."

The still room was a smallish space; the walls were lined with shelves loaded with bottles, jars and tubes. Jams, jellies, preserves and bottles of wine filled one set of shelves; another was lined with Ylsa and Kerenza's varying potions and a third with the stillrooms tools. Mortar and pestle, the still itself empty jars, jugs and tubes as well as knives and other equipment to prepare herbs and fruits for processing.

There was a large table in the center. Ylsa sat there now grinding something into a dark powder.

"Ylsa."

"Jen," the other woman looked up briefly. "What can I do for you?"

"You haven't needed any help gathering herbs or preparing any of your medicine recently?"

"You've been busy I didn't want to pull you away from your studying," Ylsa replied.

Gwen crossed her arms and studied the other woman.

"But helping you with the herbs and such has been a way for me to study."

"I've been busy my mothers need my time and their medicine-"

"I was helping you with that before Ylsa," Gwen said. "You've been avoiding me and I understand why. I owe you an apology."

Ylsa looked up now.

"I really need to concentrate right now Jen so can we, talk later?"

"So then you are avoiding me?"

"No." Ylsa drew out word said not quite looking at her.

"Listen Ylsa," Gwen clasped her hands together. "I know I said some awful things to you about magic and I understand that I was wrong, my thoughts came entirely from ignorance and I'm sorry. Thank you for showing me otherwise."

Ylsa studied her a moment before a frown creased her dark brow.

"You're welcome Jen. Thank you for apologizing."

"If we can't be friends," Guinevere sighed "I thought we were coming to be friends before but- well I've lost a lot of friends recently and all of them my own fault-"

"Jen.'"

Guinevere paused, she'd been rambling.

"Jen please sit down for a moment," Ylsa said.

Gwen sat down on the bench that faced the table.

"It's not as you are thinking."

"How so," Gwen asked?

"Are you going to talk to Matilde again?"

"No. Why would I?"

It was Ylsa's turn to sigh.

"I need to say something to you. You're not going to like it, but you need to hear all that I have to say, so promise you won't interrupt."

Guinevere nodded. She truly did not want to hear anything about Matilde and her fortunes, but Ylsa seemed fixed on it.

"I know you don't believe it is possible that you have an enemy but sometimes you can make an enemy without being aware of it." Ylsa paused. "Surely you have observed this amongst the nobles of the court. If that person is Morgana, and I feel certain that it is-"

"Morgana has no reason to be my enemy," Guinevere insisted. "I'm not important to anyone." _Not anymore._

"Jen," Ylsa looked at her sternly.

"Sorry."

"You were her maid; you probably know something about her that she wouldn't want anyone to know." Ylsa got to her feet. "If half of the rumors I've been hearing about Morgana are true," the midwife glanced away for a moment, "and I have every reason to believe that they are, then everyone that associates with you is in danger."

"No-" she snapped her mouth shut, she'd said she'd listen.

""Yes!" Ylsa settled beside her on the bench. "Let me perform some protective magic on your behalf."

"Magic?" It was Gwen's turn to leap to her feet. She stared at Ylsa like she had found a snake in her bedding. "Is it not enough that I have accepted that other people have magic?" She could hear the whine in her own voice.

Ylsa sighed and folded her hands in her lap.

"No, it's not."

The other woman held her gaze expression frank and perhaps vaguely sympathetic.

"I'm a Beaune witch Jen," the midwife rose now, "and that won't mean anything to you but there are places where the name commands respect and fear. Wealthy people fall at our feet to beg for our aid and kings that would give us titles, jewels, lands, whatever we wish for our services. What I am offering to you, I offer freely as a gift of friendship but it carries the value of a fortune."

"But why?"

"Because I like you, because you walked here from Camelot by yourself, because you're caring and compassionate and thoughtful, because you were willing to take a job that would have made you sick to pay your way." Ylsa took her hand now, giving it a friendly squeeze. "Because you're the kind of person that admits when she is wrong, because you're the kind of person I want for a friend."

"Ylsa," she felt the slight swell of tears. Something inside of her, something that had collapsed and fallen inward on itself when Elyan had looked on her face wrinkled with disdain, when Arthur had walked away from her his back as broad and cold as the metal that armored him, when Merlin could only look at her with eyes the color of a melancholy gray sky, that something stirred and woke, brought tears to her eyes and made her throw her arms around her new friend.

"I would be honored to have your help." The words came out in a harsh, choked whisper but she meant them as much as she'd ever meant any words in her life.

* * *

><p>AN- Some believed during the medieval period that twins were a sign of infidelity one father per child.I don't know how common this belief was but my research into this period has shown that what was common in one area might be unheard of in another. In some areas a rapist could be castrated and in others if a girl did not fight her rapist she would be married to him. So I decided that Mrs. Heulwen's views are limited to her and others but not held by everyone.

Starting next week The Exile is on a special schedule to bring you Wartime Tales, stories from the occupation of Camelot. The occupation is told in four short chapters. The first is The Lost Boy, Elyan's tale, the second is Spring Flowers Hafrene's tale (Magistrate Grigor's daughter), the third is The Blighted Blossom, Janet's Tale (second bracelet victim) and finally the fourth The Fallen Sheild, Gwaine's tale.


	20. The Exile, Wartime Tales, I

**_Previously in The Exile_**

_...He focused on the churned up earth. This was important._

_Arthur brought his hand to Guinevere's ring, stroked the warm metal between his thumb and forefinger. The rage receded, the sea grew calm. He saw the churned muddied earth for what it was footprints, lots of footprints, rank upon rank of them..._

**_King Arthur,Chapter 18, Two Roads_**

_Gwen took a breath "When he was young, we were very different, very close. We played together as all children do and confided in one and other. Everything changed though when Padrig was accused of sorcery." Gwen drew her knees up to her chest. "Padrig was his best friend and truly they were more than that, more like brothers. I think Padrig filled the hole in his life when Elliot died. They were just fourteen when Padrig was burnt at the stake." She paused and licked her lips before continuing. "Elyan believed and probably rightly so that Padrig was innocent. He lost faith in everyone and everything after that."_

**_Guinevere toYlsa, Chapter 14, Friends, Families and Magic_**

_"You must accept my resignation sire."_

_"Elyan-"_

_"-Your father killed my father,"_

_-Arthur winced and everyone knew what must come next-_

_"-and now you've killed my sister."_

**_Sir Elyan to King Arthur, Chapter 7, The Air in Camelot_**

* * *

><p><strong><strong>Wartime Tales, Elyan<strong>**

_The scarlet cloth winked up at him from the bottom of his pack. Despite giving his oath back to Arthur Elyan had found himself unable to discard his cape or the other badges of knighthood. It lay instead in the bottom of his bag taunting him, teasing him, reminding him of the service he'd sworn to give. Service not just to Camelot's king but his fellow knights, the common people of Camelot; people like Enid and her husband Daffyd, people like Padrig now gone, people like himself. The promise to be the sword and shield betwixt them and danger, to dig trenches during spring flooding, haul buckets during fires, to face hell itself if that's where the oath called him._

_ It lay there on the bottom of his pack scarlet and gleaming, reminding him that he wasn't supposed to quit again, reminding him of his promise to himself. He shoved it hurriedly aside and the Kente cloth slid into view, green, orange and white with gold threading its way through. _

_ The family heirloom that Gwen had lost at the river, carried by his great-grandmother Ngimbe all the way from Asante-land, a reward for heroic service to their king, to the people. Heroic service…he clutched at the faded Kente cloth._

_ Red and Gold_

_ Gold threading its way through the kente cloth like veins in mine representing the value of the service his many times great-grandfather had given in that in unseen land. Gold, the color of the dragon emblazoned on the king's banner, testifying that they'd face any danger that came to harm their people. Gold, tying him to the service he'd sword to give little over a year ago, reminding him of how he was supposed to keep his word, reminding him of how he was supposed to be different now, better, a man, no longer a child. How the test of man's word came not during the easy times, but during the hard times, the impossible times. Reminding him that he was supposed to be keeping his word to make good in Gwen's eyes and yet…_

_ Red and Gold _

_ Red the color of blood, the tie to her, the mingled blood of their father and mother that ran in both their veins. He was supposed to take care of her just as she had taken care of him, she was his sister._

_ Red and Gold_

_ Red and gold, the color of the fire that had consumed Padrig's life and sent him running in the first place. He beat the cape down into the bottom of his pack and tied it up fast. Tomorrow he would start the last leg of his journey away from Camelot. _

_**The Lost Boy, tale the 1st**_

Elyan studied the inn. It was not one of the oversized wattle and daub lodges he'd been given hospitality in as of late. He fronted a two-story stucco and half timber building that was both clean and bustling. Their sign showed a horse, bed, and bath. Elyan smiled, thankful not for the first time that he had been scrupulous while employed and saved some of his pay. Tonight he was resting in comfort and style.

He'd crossed the border into Caerleon little more than a week ago. This village, Leslie was the first large village he'd come to. Besides a large inn it boasted a market, manor court, physician and a blacksmith by the name of Micah. If Gwen had passed through here on her way to Wyeledon she most likely would have paid a visit to the black smith. If she hadn't passed through Leslie many travelers did; someone here might have met her, spoken with her. That was the hope he nursed himself on at least.

Before leaving Camelot he'd gone back to the river to search the area where he'd found the Kente cloth for any sign of his sister. He'd found none. After weighing his options he'd decided to head southeast toward Wyeledon. If she had gotten away from the bandits she might have done as Gwaine suggested and made her way there. In every village he offered her description relying on the deference afforded to his mount and armor to get any information. However it seemed there was none. No one had seen a woman matching Gwen's description traveling southeast that spring.

Elyan paid for a pallet, care and stabling for Sheba, and spent the night at the Pig and Stick. He asked around as he did every night but got no news of her.

In the morning he paid a visit to the local blacksmith, Micah. Whenever he passed through Leslie he spent a few days with Micah. They discussed the craft and Elyan helped out in the smithy, in return Micah gave him meals and a pallet on the floor near his hearth.

"Elyan," Micah greeted him with a smile. The older man looked the typical black smith, large and meaty with thick well muscled arms, face red from the heat of the forge and smeared with soot. To Elyan he looked like a friend.

"It's been a long time. I thought you were living high as a knight of Camelot."

"Too many nose in the air nobleman," Elyan replied.

"That's no surprise."

Elyan surveyed Micah's home. From the outside it was an ordinary peasant cottage but he saw several pairs of shoes, all new from the look of it, summer capes, cooper cookware and he heard the ring of multiple hammers in the smithy. A glance through the little window into the smithy itself showed three new hands.

"What can I do for you? You looking for a job?" The older man asked.

"No, my sister." He gave the description of Gwen and told the story he'd decided on. The story of a widowed woman traveling to visit with her mother-in-law and gone missing.

"I'm sorry I haven't seen her. I would have made her welcome if she'd come this way." The large man frowned.

"I know." Elyan glanced about the room again. "You're doing quite well from the look of things."

"Couple good commissions," Micah shrugged.

"Yeah, must be some commissions, with the extra hands." Elyan's dark eyes narrowed.

Micah shrugged.

"Hope things stay as they have been with the treaty between Camelot and Caerleon."

"You're not a knight there anymore?"

"No but I got friends and family living there still."

"Hmm well no reason to suspect a change between Caerleon and Camelot." Micah said.

"Thanks Micah. I'll let you get back to work."

The two men clasped hands and Elyan strode away. Something was amiss. Blacksmiths made horseshoes, hinges, rods, locks, keys, anything made of metal but nothing kept them busy or paid like a war, and Micah's home looked like the home of a blacksmith in a nation making ready.

Elyan had learned a lot in a year and a half at court. The peace between Camelot and Caerleon was a fragile thing. Kings and queens were not autonomous; they relied on the support of their nobles and knights. Queen Annis might want peace, but if enough knights and nobles wanted war with Camelot she might find herself acquiescing. A sneak attack on Camelot might mean hundreds of thousands of lives lost. If Caerleon was planning to make war on Camelot he would have to warn them somehow.

* * *

><p>Elyan started awake as a hand came down over his mouth.<p>

"It's me." He recognized Micah's whisper in his ear. "I'm going to the stables, count twenty breaths and follow me."

Elyan heard the other slip away and lay in his pallet near the hearth, counting the twenty breaths over the snorts and snores of the inn's other guest. When he'd counted twenty, he counted another twenty just to be certain. Then he eased out of his pallet, belted on his sword and slipped out of the inn. He found Micah in the stables just as he'd said, face illumined by the light of the nighttime stars.

"What is it?"

"Six months ago a man came to me. Tall, brown, shaven headed and there was a woman with him. Dark-haired, fair of complexion, the man did not use her name though she called him Helios. The woman, he called her Morgana once and she seemed angry over it."

Elyan listened with growing dread as Micah told all that he knew. They had ordered swords and armor plates. Micah believed the woman to be Morgana Pendragon and the siege that they planned to be one for Camelot. More than that though they'd seemed confident that it would work.

"What are you going to do now?"The older man asked thumbs tucked into his belt.

"I don't know." Elyan pounded his fist into his palm. "I hate Camelot."

* * *

><p>Uther had had his father killed and thanks to Arthur, Guinevere was lost, very possibly dead and yet Camelot was not just its kings. He had other family there- aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces and nephews; he had friends like Dafyd and Enid. How might Morgana treat them? Padrig's parents had seen their son burnt at the stake, how much more did they deserve to lose?<p>

She'd lined up helpless peasants and had them shot to compel the allegiance of the knights, she rent the world asunder and brought the Dorocha upon them in an attempt to compel Arthur to sacrifice himself and leave the throne vacant for her.

"I'm sorry Gwen." Elyan put on his cloak and pointed his horse north towards Queen Annis' summer court. Arthur was no perfect king, but he could not leave Camelot and its people to Morgana.

His Pendragon badges got him past the castle gates easily enough. He did not request an audience with the queen but went instead to Camelot's ambassador Lord Constans of Cornwall. The older man listened to his story gravely and then took Elyan directly to a private meeting with the queen. Again he told his story. The queen did not interrupt him as he spoke. She listened and watched him an inscrutable expression on her face, small blue eyes, clear and steady.

Something about her put him in mind of a bird a falcon, strong, graceful, dangerous. After several breaths she finally spoke.

"Tell me Sir Elyan does your king know you are here in Caerleon?"

"No your majesty I am on a personal errand."

"Oh pray tell what that is?" She asked one small hand resting under her chin.

He got the sense that she already knew.

"It is a delicate matter your majesty."

"I find myself facing a dilemma with you Sir Elyan. Here you are a foreign knight, armed and armored in Caerleon without any permissions. Where did you cross into my kingdom? Did you tell them you were a knight when you did?" She waited hands loosely clasped in her lap.

Elyan considered for a moment.

"I am a knight no longer your majesty. I have given back my oath."

"But there you are with a golden dragon and red cloak carrying a warning of some attack on Camelot. Forgive me Sir Elyan but you look very much a knight of Camelot to me."

He swallowed.

"I may look it but I am no longer so."

"Because of your sister?" She asked at last.

Elyan bit the inside of his jaw.

"Sir Elyan if you are no longer a knight of Camelot and have cut ties with the place why should I give consideration to anything you have said? How do I know that you are not a," she paused searching for her next word, "vengeful troublemaker?"

"I may bear ill will toward the king of Camelot itself but Camelot like any land is not simply its kings," Elyan said. "It is a land of people, of friends, of family. A knight swears his service to those that are weaker than himself, women, children, the old and the crippled of a nation, the peasant farmers that labor to grow the food that graces his table. It is for those people that I have come to you now."

For a long time Annis was quiet, holding his gaze and then slowly she smiled.

"Well said Sir Elyan. Perhaps when these errands of yours have resolved themselves you will consider giving your oath to another nation."

Elyan started surprised and Annis merely laughed a warm, rich chuckle

"If I may interject your majesty," Lord Constans spoke up. "What do you wish to do about this black smith's story?"

"We shall send to Leslie for this Micah, but I believe we should investigate this immediately. Tell me Sir Elyan do you believe this Micah's story?"

"I can think of no reason for him to lie and I have known him for some years. Also his sudden wealth supports it."

"Yes and if one were to lie I would not involve Morgana in it." The queen looked thoughtful for a moment. "Summon the war council we must determine where this Helios and his army may reside and what steps we will take next. I mislike the idea that someone has lain within my borders to launch an attack on an ally and like the idea of having to treat with Morgana even less." She looked at him now. "Sir Elyan will you sit in on this council? You've crossed the border recently and if we would send men across Camelot's borders they would do better in the charge of one of Camelot's own."

"I will sit in on the council of course your majesty but-"

"It is a troubled thing to live with a divided heart Sir Elyan. You have chosen this path you would do well to see it through to its end."

He considered his words to Annis just a moment ago. Perhaps she was right.

* * *

><p>The war council proved efficient and effective. Annis quickly focused the conversation of Caerleon's northwestern border. One of her knights suggested that Helios was most likely holed up in an abandoned fort or castle in the wild territories, not actually governed by Caerleon.<p>

Lord Tyne pointed out that bandits in the northwest near Pons Aelius had grown quiet this year. If someone had pressed them into service that would explain why there had been no raiding. They narrowed their efforts down to two likely locations and Annis sent an advanced party to each while her knights picked up the blacksmith Micah.

Elyan volunteered to go to Pons Aelius and Lord Constans traveled with them. It took the advance party five days to reach Pons Aelius. A small village had grown up around the fort though all was now abandoned. A search of the space revealed that it had indeed been inhabited by an army but more importantly they found bits of correspondence not fully destroyed in fireplace.

_Camelot_

_ plans_

_ Lord Agra_

_ tunnels_

The place looked to have been abandoned for perhaps two weeks.

"What will you do Sir Elyan? You could take the advanced party into Camelot. It could make all the difference?" Lord Constans looked at him waiting.

Elyan stared back at the other man feeling as if he had somehow stumbled into a trap.

* * *

><p>The first of the Wartime Tales, stories from the occupation of Camelot is completed. The next is the second tale, Spring Flowers Hafrene's tale (Magistrate Grigor's daughter), after that The Blighted Blossom, Janet's Tale (second bracelet victim) and finally The Fallen Sheild, Gwaine's tale.<p> 


	21. The Exile, Wartime Tales, II

**_Previouly in The Exile, _**

"..._I mislike the idea that someone has lain within my borders to launch an attack on an ally and like the idea of having to treat with Morgana even less." She looked at him now. "Sir Elyan will you sit in on this council? You've crossed the border recently and if we would send men across Camelot's borders they would do better in the charge of one of Camelot's own."_

_"I will sit in on the council of course your majesty but-"_

_"It is a troubled thing to live with a divided heart Sir Elyan. You have chosen this path you would do well to see it through to its end."_

**_Queen Annis and Sir Elyan, chapter 20_**

_For a long moment he stood looking at them, the two of them radiating the happiness that they shared to the rest of the world. They studied him in turn. After a moment a worried frown creased Efan's brow and she let out a troubled little oh before coming to him an enveloping him. He'd never known his mother but surely Efan's embrace was everything that that should be; warm, soothing, a place of safety, protection from all the grief, from all the betrayal. He held her tight, desiring for just a moment to be a little boy whose greatest hurt was skinned knees that could be soothed with a cinnamon scented salve or a spinning top that could be mended with glue._

**_King Arthur and Nurse Efan, chapter 16_**

_ "...King Uther was a very jealous parent. I still remember the last time Arthur visited our home. He was fifteen. I reminded him of his duty, told him he'd be a better king than his father, that the people would need a king who might prefer the company of commoners to nobles and sent him back."_

**_Magistrate Grigor to Merlin, chapter 16_**

**_warning: brief mentions of animal cruelty_**

* * *

><p><em> Dark curls, white cotton dresses gleaming against ebon skin, all embroidered with flowers and butterflies in pastel pink, blue and yellow. Hafreen's woman's blood has not yet flowed and she is a child free of cares and woes.<em>

_ In the mornings she helps her mother and housekeeper Alis with chores. Baking bread, smoking meats, the pickling and preserving of vegetables and fruits. In the afternoons she has lessons at her mother's insistence: reading, maths, science and philosophy. When the lessons are done and on Sundays after church she is free to play. Free to roam the fields inside the citadel walls to pick flowers, study clouds, swim in the sweet, cool pond on hot summer days, to slip outside on full moon nights and chase frogs. _

_The fields of clover are damp and slippery underfoot._

_ On those nights some of her friends kiss boys._

_ While sometimes she watched her friends kiss boys and a strange little pulse went through her mostly Hafreen is more concerned with flowers and games and sick animals. The latter she always keeps an eye open for. She finds the injured things and takes them home. Somehow they know she means them no harm and they trust her. Rabbits, squirrels, robins, pheasants, tortoises. It is a pleasure to care for them and a joy to watch them bound away healthy. Of course sometimes they die._

_ The first time that happened she sobbed into her mother's soft breast and Efan stroked her shoulders and sang to her. _

_In her eyes her father and mother are perfect. _

_ Her father, Grigor towers over her mother, towers over them, a pillar of strength and shelter, smelling smokey but also of mint, orris and basil. Her mother's hand is a tiny thing in her father's, small and dainty, a perfect feminine point. And when her father holds her mother her head rest easily upon his chest._

_ She is envious of her mother tiny and delicate with ample hips and bosom._

_ Hafreen is tall, taller than all of her friends, taller than many boys. _

_She has only breast buds, not even a suggestion of a woman's curve. Her mother asks her to get things from high shelves and she is awkward and gangling. Her hands are wide, her fingers long, they are not graceful, nor curls long, dark and gleaming are the only hint of her womanliness and of them she is proud._

_ She does not see the prettiness of wide dark eyes that might drown a lover or ensnare a husband. Lips so full and soft that will one day be seen as begging for her lovers kiss when they are simply pursed. She does not see the perfection of ebon skin that shows no mark or scar. _

_ Twelve-years old she stands on the cusp of womanhood. _

_Senses perhaps adventure and excitement. _

_Longs for passion. _

_Fears dullness, mediocrity and loneliness._

_ As yet the promise of tomorrow is unknown._

**Spring Flowers, tale the 2****nd**

"I'll be good father I promise." Hafreen clutched the blade to her chest with hands like black porcelain and did her best to look brave. "I'll listen to Alis and if anyone comes, I'll hide."

This wasn't the first time Camelot had been invaded, just last year Morgana and Morgause had brought the army that would not die to their gates. Her father placed his large dark hands on her shoulders and stared into her eyes. She did her best to look brave. For all that she wanted her brother Gerault with her she could not let her father go alone to look for their mother. She let out a breath when he finally nodded. He kissed her on the forehead and clutched her to him lifting her from the ground. At twelve years of age Hafreen may have gained almost mannish height but she was reed thin, her father lifted her with ease.

"I'll take your brother Gerry with me, the two of you be careful," Magistrate Grigor said voice stern. "Bar the door when we're gone. Light an hour candle. If we haven't returned in half an hour barricade it." He took a deep breath. "Don't let anyone hurt you baby. If anyone tries stick 'em, take your knife back and hide. Do you understand?"

"Yes father."

"I love you sweetheart."

"I love you too daddy."

Gerry came downstairs with a sword then and Grigor frowned and told him to take one of the clubs he used as necessary in the course of his work as magistrate.

Gerry gave her a hug then and father and son hurried out. Alis her pale face calm, put the bar across the door as soon as they were gone and lit the hour candle. Haf looked at the notch that would tell half an hour and swallowed.

"Now what do we do?"

"We wait." Alis sat down on the bench in the foyer and began knitting. Haf sat down beside her knife held tight in her long fingered hands. She looked at Alis knitting and wondered if she should get some embroidery or sewing but did not move. Instead she stared at the door, willing it to open, willing her parents to walk through. She studied the yellow flowers blooming across the rug that covered the dull gray stone floor.

_Why had she told Gerry to go with dad?_ He should have stayed. She stroked her thumb over the knob of the knife hilt tracing the curving brass ridges and tried to ignore the clicking sounds of Alis' needles. Nothing must happen to them. There were shouts and screams from outside, the smell of smoke and fire grew. She glanced at the hour candle not even a quarter had passed. Her mouth felt dry and she thought of a drink of water, but did not move. Something brushed up against her leg and she started before looking down to see the furry gray head of her cat.

"Mrrowww!"

"Kitty," she whispered. "Shush."

_Pound! Pound! Pound! _

The pair on the bench started and stared at the door.

"Let me in Hafreen, Alis! It's Dafyd, I'm hurt."

Alis went to the door and peaked through its small window.

"It is Dafyd." The housekeeper smiled and opened the door with a sigh of relief. He staggered in and leant against the wall while Alis shut the door behind him.

"You've been stabbed." Alis exclaimed. "Haf help me get him into the parlor."

She put the knife down and went to Dafyd's side. With an arm draped over each of their shoulders they got the wounded man into the parlor and laid him on the padded bench there. Haf swallowed she could see the blood leaking down now, staining his dark clothes.

There had been no fighting during last year's invasion. Morgana had simply thrown open the gates and made the invaders welcome. In previous years she had been too young to help out in the infirmary though she nursed the odd baby squirrel or pet with a broken leg. But a human with blood pouring from a wound while her father and brother had gone out into the danger to help her mother- She stared.

Alis lifted his tunic to reveal a slit loosing blood. Haf swallowed and felt her stomach turn.

"I have to get bandages put your hand over the wound and press down."

When she didn't move Alis took her hand and pressed it onto the injury. In a second she felt warm wet blood and loose flesh. Haf fought screaming.

"Look at me," Alis commanded and she met the housekeeper's blue-gray eyes.

"Remain calm, put your other hand on top and press down, NOW!" Alis nearly shouted the word and Hafreen obeyed immediately.

"I'm going to get bandages and supplies do not move. Do you understand Hafreen?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Very good."

Alis strode from the room and Haf knelt at Dafyd's side. Tears welled in her eyes and she tried not to think about her mom, dad or Gerry being hurt like Dafyd.

"Hey," Dafyd said, "your family will come back."

"Will they?" She looked at him helplessly.

"Your dad is smart and clever, your mother is a tough little woman and Gerry is a good brave boy. They'll come back."

She didn't say anything and he winced.

"Does it hurt very much?"

"Less than a broken arm."

"Oh," she tried to think of something else to say. "Are-are Enid and Abigail at home?"

"Yes."

Haf tried to smile. She liked babies, they were adorable and sweet and they liked being held and cuddled.

"Abigail is very pretty."

"She is starting to walk now."

"I'll visit her when-," she didn't know when, "later."

Alis came in at that moment and knelt beside her, dark skirts pooling around her, a basket of supplies in her lap.

"Lift your hands."

Haf did as she was told. The wound was bleeding more sluggishly now. Fascinated in spite of herself she watched Alis clean away most of the blood to reveal a pink and white fleshy slit. Dafyd cried out in pain and whimpered when Alis began smearing a yellow paste along the length of the wound.

Haf got to her feet, blinking at the start of tears in her eyes. She slipped out of the parlor, remembering that she'd left the knife her father had given her in the foyer. The girl ran to fetch it and checked the hour candle. She'd only just closed her hands around the hilt when the door burst open. A great hulk of a man stood there tall and broad wearing leather armor. His face was scarred and he was covered in blood and grime. He wore no insignia of Camelot. He took a step forward. The scream that had been building in her since this nightmare started burst forward high and shrill.

In the next moment he fell forward and Haf felt relief flood through her at the sight of her father's rye brown face.

"Dad." She threw herself at him and he caught her easily.

"It's all right darling. Your daddy is home."

Over his shoulder she saw her mother and brother, both disarrayed and filthy but seemingly unharmed.

* * *

><p>"Wait, please. Do you have to?" She looked at the knife in her father's hand and fingered the end of her long dark braid.<p>

"We mustn't take any chances."

She stared at her parents trying to think. Imagining herself shaved like an adulterous.

"You'll be safer looking like a boy."

"But-"

"Your father's right." Her mother gave her shoulders a squeeze. "I don't want to have to worry about you. Be a big girl for your mother Haf."

"Yes ma'am." She turned and held her breath while her father hacked through her dark curls with a knife, baring the nape of her neck to all the world.

The shorn braid went into the fire, soon it's stink mingled with all the other smells of things burning.

"I'll give you a proper hair cut in the morning and we'll hide your dresses and things away somewhere."

She stared at the fire, watched her hair melt and shrivel. Something was always burning in Camelot.

"Look baby, keep this one." Her mother handed her a stray curl that had escaped the flames somehow.

"Thank you mother."

* * *

><p>They slept in one long line on the parlor floor, Grigor on one end and Gerry on the other, Haf, Alis and Efan in the middle. For a long while they'd sat in the parlor, silent and frightened one lone candle burning in the dark, just enough light to see each other, just enough light to see anyone that came into their midst. Her father had kept looking at Efan and Alis with a frown. At one point he had nudged the chamber pot toward her mother and Alis.<p>

"If they go house to house."

Efan had wrinkled up her face but Alis had simply nodded.

"You too," he said looking directly at Efan.

"I will husband," she emphasized the last word.

It was rare that her father actually told her mother to do anything. Usually Efan made her own decisions or they made them together. What was her father so worried about? Rape. The word went with siege and warfare, foreign soldiers did it to women, whatever it was, but the Lady Morgana was one of them, wasn't she? She marched at the head of a foreign army, but surely she could control her soldiers, protect the people? Haf swallowed. The Lady Morgana had had commoners shot to compel the loyalty of Camelot's knight. What might she do now that she had seized the throne a second time? They weren't commoners but how many times had she been reminded in her short life that they were barely nobles?

As the night had worn on and things had grown quiet her mother had suggested they lay down on the rug to sleep. Haf had curled up against her like a girl half her age, but Efan had only put her arms around her and kissed her forehead and stroked her curls.

"The king was not in the palace was he mom?"

"No."

She breathed a sigh of relief.

"Then he'll save us."

"Yes baby."

Feeling suddenly very much safer Haf drifted into sleep.

* * *

><p>The girl opened her eyes and saw the wide dark eyes of a cherub staring down at her from the ceiling above her bed. She was in her room. She hadn't slept in the parlor last night. The siege, the invasion, they must have been a bad dream. She smiled and set up.<p>

"Mom," she got out of bed and froze when she did not see or feel the familiar fabric of her night dress. Saw instead that she was wearing Enfys' cast off tunic and trousers. She raised a hand to the back of her neck and swallowed as she felt naked skin, her nape exposed. Everything that happened yesterday evening welled into her conscious mind. Haf looked around her bedroom, looked at her comfortable mattress, with its flower carved wooden headboard and footboard, her pretty pink and white linens, the cherub mural painted on her ceiling, the white painted oak paneling on her walls, her dolls on their shelves, even Kitty was sleeping next to her.

She got out of bed and newly shorn curls flopped into her eyes. Haf pushed the curls out of her face with one ebony colored hand and crept to her bedroom door. Slowly she opened the door. Seeing no one about the girl ventured forth. She checked her parent's room, Gerry's room and even Alis. Everyone was awake, their beds made. The house looked normal.

Still feeling weary she crept into downstairs, trailing her hands along dark oak paneled walls. The door into the foyer was closed but she could hear voices. Haf hurried to the door and listened.

"How long will he be gone? Perhaps I can pack him a lunch? Does he need a change of clothes?" That was her mother's voice.

"I'm simply collecting the magistrate and bringing him to my captain. I wasn't told anything about lunches or changes of clothes." She did not recognize the male voice that made that reply.

"Indecent is what it is-"

"Get ahold of your wife before I have to." The stranger said and Haf tensed with sudden fear.

"Efan leave it," She heard her father's voice weary but firm and she could practically hear her mother's mouth snap shut. A moment later there came the sound of footsteps and door shutting.

"Mom," she went into the foyer. "What do they want with dad?"

"I don't know sweetheart." Her mother pulled her down into a warm soft embrace and Haf settled into her mother's softness. Why would anyone want dad? They hadn't wanted dad the last time?

"I'm sure all will be well," Efan said. "We should get you fed and get this hair cut of yours fixed, you look like some peasant boy."

* * *

><p>Gerry snatched her clothes from their hangers while Haf gathered her dolls. She had but three of them. One stuff doll that her mother had made, a clay doll that Enfys' wife Amelia had given her and her most prized toy, a doll carved from ebony that her father had had made for her when she was nine years old. The ebon doll looked remarkably like her and though she was too old to play with dolls, all were precious.<p>

"Hurry!" Gerry glared at her. "We've got to get this room done before dad gets home."

"I know." She closed the trunk and they lifted it from the ground. They had to get it into the cellar; dad wanted no chances taken, especially now that soldiers would be living in their home. They got the trunk into downstairs and made up her bed with Enfys' linens and scattered boys things throughout.

"It looks good," Gerry said as they surveyed the room. "Now you?"He studied her a moment. "You're tall that's good and you don't have any hips or anything. You definitely look like a boy, weird but like a boy. I think we can keep calling you Haf, it certainly won't give you away as a girl."

"Thanks." Haf stuck her tongue out at her brother and brought her hand to the nape of her neck. She wanted her mother to cut her hair down and make it resemble king Arthur's but that wasn't possible. Instead her mother had cut away every trace of curl so she now had short black cap of hair with not a strand out of place.

"Let's see if mom needs anything else." Gerry said and the two children headed downstairs.

* * *

><p>Hafreen hoped she carried the linens like a boy. Hoped she did everything like a boy. She pushed the door to the guest room open and kitty darted into the room only to halt just inside the doorway struck by certain curiosity.<p>

"Kitty!" The girl scolded and stepped over the beast.

There were four soldiers living with them now, an officer and three of his men. Camelot's hold wasn't large enough for Morgana's full army. Many of Camelot's soldiers and knight resided with family in the city, lived at the palace itself and the officers maintained private residences. The invaders of course had none of these things. Any citizen with a home that had more than three rooms had been ordered to quarter soldiers.

Hafreen set the linens down on the edge of the guest bed and surveyed the guest room. It was comfortable space with blue plaster wall, an east facing window, a set of shelves and a cabinet. It shared a wall with the chimney which meant it remained warm even without a fireplace and would also be tolerable in the summer. The bed itself could easily sleep two; three would be close but comfortable. Still there was a trundle bed and her mother wanted it made up. The intention was to treat the soldiers like honored guest.

The soldiers were in the parlor. Their captain was closeted with her father in his study where he often spoke with witnesses to crimes or saw anyone who wished to make some case against their neighbor. She wasn't sure where Gerry had got to. Hafreen pulled out the trundle bed and Kitty stared a minute before leaping onto the center of the mattress, investigating.

She shooed the pesky beast and started making up the bed. She layered sheets smelling of rose with a coverlet and summer spread before adding two pillows. With the bedding in place Hafreen knelt in the center of the bed on all fours smoothing it.

When she'd done the girl climbed backwards off the bed nearly tripping over her cat. Kitty yelped as her foot came down on one paw.

"I'm sorry Kitty." She crouched and he came toward with bit of hesitation before sniffing her fingers and butting up against her hand.

"I'm sorry," Hafreen scooped up her cat began stroking the back of his head as he started to purr.

"He's a beautiful animal."

The girl looked up and saw one of the soldiers standing in the doorway watching her with deep set pale gray eyes and crossed arms. Her mother had told her to avoid the soldiers; they were mercenaries not to be trusted. Haf rose, still holding onto her pet, uncertain about what she would do next.

"Hefin right?"

"Yes." It was a boy's name, but so similar to her own that her common nickname Haf would raise no suspicion.

"Well Hefin my name is Leofren, but you can call me Leo if you like. Thank you for making up the room."

"You're welcome," Haf swallowed. Leofren was surely a Saxon name. Morgana had attracted Saxons to her army. There were some few Saxons living in Camelot, but using Saxon mercenaries. Hafreen suppressed a frown.

Leofren strode across the room and halted close enough for her to smell mead and a faint scent of myrtle. She started to take a step back but the bed was just behind her. He was a tallish man, taller than her, not as tall as her father and his dark hair was thinning. He had a narrow straight nose and thin lips.

"Cat's are perfect hunters."

She nodded.

"Perfect killers."

He reached out one hand to stroke Kitty's chin and her discomfort rose. Kitty pressed back against her, and tucked his head into the crook of her arm.

"He's not always friendly," she explained.

"Of course not," Leofren smiled and looked back at her. "Is he a good mouser?"

She nodded.

"I should go." Hafreen sidled past him. "I have chores."

"Of course."

* * *

><p>The soldiers took over the parlor, regularly used up all the hot water, and took no little pleasure in dumping their laundry on the women of the household. They sat up late nights drinking and playing cards, and left and returned at odd hours. They returned stinking of mead and stale perfume, singing rowdy songs rousing the household and the neighborhood.<p>

Hafreen stuck close to her brother and parents, wary of what it might mean to give away her ruse.

Morgana had not allowed the town to be pillaged but soldiers took advantage of their rank and immunity to do things.

Some complaints of robbings, rapings, and beatings had made their way to her father's ears, but all he could do was report them to the captain. People left angry, but Haf didn't know what he was supposed to do about it. He was powerless like the rest of them. Sometimes if they were alone he just hugged her to him with a desperation she'd never felt before.

For the most part the soldiers let her alone. They seemed uninterested in a child her age. Though they occasionally invited Gerry to join them in a game of dice or cards, in spite of her parents warnings if they were not around he did.

For all that Leofren had unnerved her in that initial encounter Haf found herself warming to him. He told funny stories, was pleasant during meals and knew a number of songs and entertaining tricks. Hafreen found that she enjoyed his company and chided herself for being fearful.

* * *

><p>One morning a few weeks after the arrival of the soldiers her father had been called to deal with a problem or truthfully oversee a situation that would in all likelihood be settled unfairly in favor of a soldier. Not long after her father left she saw Janet slipping out of the house head down. A little later her mother went to visit with the now widowed Enid and her children. Alis sent her and Gerry next door to stay with their neighbors and went to the market with some other maids and servants.<p>

They were not to be alone in the house with the soldiers but not long after the adults left Gerry went back home. After a time Haf grew bored and headed home herself.

She searched the house and found it empty except for a couple of soldiers napping in their room. Wondering where her brother had got to she headed for the backyard, Kitty trailing along behind her. The cat mewed as they passed through the kitchen, tone loud and demanding.

"You want a treat?"

The animal mewed again.

Haf stopped to find him some giblets stored in the pantry from yesterday's dinner. It was while searching the pantry that she heard it. Thunks and the screeching sound of metal clashing against metal. It seemed to be coming from the backyard. Curious she headed outside.

Haf walked onto the porch and stared in confusion at what she saw.

Leofren and Gerry, with swords and armor, fighting. She watched Gerry try to guard, try to side step, try to get his shield up, watched him give ground…Saw Leofren swat him with the flat of the blade more than once and though he wore armor from the way Gerry cried out at those swats she was certain they would leave marks. Finally her brother stumbled backwards and lost his footing. He yielded and Haf breathed a sigh of relief. She ran to her brother's side even as Leofren helped him up.

"Are you hurt Gerry?"

Leofren laughed.

"Boy needs toughening. You too I would imagine."

"I'm perfectly fine," Gerry said as he got to his feet and Haf thought she heard annoyance in his voice.

He took her arm and turned her away from Leofren.

"You're not going to tell mom and dad are you?" He asked in a whisper. She studied Gerry's light brown face.

"I'm pretty sure dad wants you to wait to get your knight's training from our brother Lord Enfys," she replied thrusting her chin forward.

Leofren snorted and they turned to see him grinning.

"But your brother isn't here."

He tossed a his knife up into the air and caught it by it's hilt.

"Now you're not going to tell your parents are you Hefrin because you're a good little brother, right?"

Haf swallowed.

"You see I am very skilled with a knife."

The children watched him twirl the blade, watched it flick though his fingers faster than their eyes could follow, saw him balance it on the back of his hand.

"I learned from an old master. He was ancient, had only one eye."He bounced the blade upward again. "But he could he pin a fly to the wall with his knife." Leofren caught the blade, twirled with all the care haf might give when twirling a daisy and sheathed it.

"Gerry, here," Leofren dropped a friendly arm around Gerry's shoulder. "My man Gerry wants to learn to sword fight, learn how to protect his family and I am willing to teach him. A good little brother wouldn't interfere with that now would he?"

"No." Feeling a strange sense of dread Haf shook her head.

"That's a good boy," Leofren smiled and gave her shoulder a friendly squeeze. Haf smiled back but it did not reach her eyes.

* * *

><p>After that Haf was more careful about avoiding the soldiers. More than once Gerry suggested she let Leofren teach her knife throwing to keep up her ruse but each time she refused. Haf could not bring herself to go anywhere near Leofren. He hadn't done any particular but the idea of spending time with Leofren scared her. She considered telling her parents about Gerry having befriended soldiers, but found herself hesitating. What possible harm could there be in Gerry learning to swordfight? Perhaps she was just a coward.<p>

One afternoon certainly no more than week after the incident with Gerry and Leofren Haf was looking for Kitty. She had gone with her mother to the market and convinced her to buy Kitty's favorite treat a few bits of smoked trout. Eager to share the fish with her pet Haf called for Kitty as soon as she was home. Normally the little beast greeted her at the door whenever she was gone for more than an hour. Not particularly worried Haf went about her chores.

It wasn't until after supper that the girl realized she hadn't seen Kitty all day. She searched for him in all of his favorite places, near the fire place, in the parlor window, in the kitchen wedged in narrow space between the wall and the hearth, in the garden and under her bed. She finally found Kitty hiding in her closet left foreleg bent at an odd angle.

It took some coaxing but he came to her and meowed long and low, a sound full of sorrow. Worried she got him in her lap and touched one gentle finger to his foreleg. He yowled and tried to get out of her lap but she had expected just such a reaction.

_What had happened to Kitty?_

She took care of him just like she took care of all the other animals. She got him to take some Valerian root in ground up organ meat and when he was sleep she pricked his skin just above the break and brushed it with nettle to numb to the leg. Examining it then she concluded that somehow it had been broken. She bound up his foreleg with splints and bandages, setting it as straight as she could.

After that Haf carried him with her everywhere in a little sling she made for him. And so carrying everywhere she noticed something. Whenever Kitty heard Leofren or saw him he burrowed into her side pushing himself as far back into the sling as possible. She could not fathom why but Haf was certain that the soldier had broken Kitty's leg.

* * *

><p>So dear readers only two tales are left The Blighted Blossom, Janet's Tale (second bracelet victim) and finally The Fallen Sheild, Gwaine's tale.<p>

A/N-Dear readers I want to take a moment to talk a bit about why I am writing Wartime Tales, Stories out of the Occupation of Camelot. Violence is one of the foundations of storytelling in science-fiction, fantasy, urban fantasy, horror and similar genres, body counts pile up to raise the stakes, so that audiences know that evil people are truly dangerous, evil threats that must be destroyed at all cost. I don't object to violence being part of the genre, but I do object to the fact that the violence nearly always centered regular people whose stories are nevere told. For all that many of us may feel that we identify with Guinevere or Merlin or Arthur or Morgana etc.. the truth is we are all probably the people lying dead in the scenes to show us how dangerous the bad guys are. I don't know about you all, but I feel that our stories and our deaths are just as important as any other story.

As always thank you so much for reading The Exile and remember I welcome your comments and thoughts.


	22. The Exile, Wartime Tales, III

_**Previously in The Exile**_

_"Now I've got a few other farewell gifts for you. This is from the staff." He handed her a leather satchel. Inside it Guinevere found a purse heavy with coppers, a meal for her lunch, __**the cap Enid had been knitting for her daughter -It would actually match her travel cape perfectly-**__,a belt knife that Elyan had made for himself years ago and most importantly two envelopes that could only be letters of recommendation. Guinevere felt her throat tighten and the start of tears in her eyes._

_**The parting gifts given to Gwen by her friends in Camelot.**_

_"I truly don't understand it all, but Leolin and I are finished."_

_"Just like that! But only three days ago he was talking about going to your father and he gave you that lovely bracelet. It can't be over Janet."_

_Janet's eyes strayed to the gleaming band of silver on her wrist. She recalled the guilty pleasure of Neiren's arms._

_"You can have it." Janet slipped the band from her wrist and placed it in Mared's palm._

_**Janet to Mared in The Exile, Chapter Two On the Road**_

_"Oh," she tried to think of something else to say. "Are-are Enid and Abigail at home?"_

_"Yes."_

_Haf tried to smile. She liked babies, they were adorable and sweet and they liked being held and cuddled._

_"Abigail is very pretty."_

_"She is starting to walk now."_

_"I'll visit her when-," she didn't know when, "later."_

_**Dafyd and Haf in The Exile, Chapter 21, Spring Flowers**_

_"Sire forgive my boldness," the woman was bowing her head giving him the view of only a linen cap and few strands of dark fly away her. When she spoke her words quick and breathless, "you may not recognize me. I am Enid, a friend of the Goode family."_

_Arthur took a breath "What can I do for you?"_

_She lifted her head, wide eyes, pale and desperate met his own._

_"Sire, you must help up. Sarah is not an adulteress some evil magic has pushed her to this. Please don't leave this in the hands of the magistrate. It's more than he can handle."_

_"Magic?" Arthur felt his upper lip curling "you are mistaken Madame." He turned to go and started when he felt the woman's hand clutch his arm._

_**Enid to King Arthur in The Exile, Chapter 13, And the Truth Will Out**_

_**Rated Mature for violence and warfare subjects. Please scroll to the author's notes at the end before reading for possible trigger warnings.**_

* * *

><p><em>Janet hurried from the magistrate's home, head and eyes downcast, blonde-brown hair escaping in gentle wisps from the plaid kerchief that covered her head. She looked neither right nor left; she knew the way, knew the streets of Camelot as well as she knew her name. As well as she knew her own sadness.<em>

_She kept her head and eyes down to hide the shimmering of tears in her pale grey eyes. She'd done this often enough-walked the streets of her home hiding tears and people had learnt to recognize her by her kerchiefs; one plaid and one pale blue, fancifully embroidered by her long dead mother and fraying about the edges._

_She'd walked like this as crisp red and gold leaves swirled around her, and she cried for the loss of her father and brother burnt at the stake for witchery. She walked as snow covered the hem of her skirt as shiny white flakes drifted around her, she cried for the loss of her mother, dead of a broken heart. She walked as flowers bloomed and bits of green pushed up through the earth, transforming Camelot into a riot of color, and she cried for the loss of her betrothed; not to death this time but for her own foolish, mistaken passions. And she walked it once more as the grain ripened in the fields and the trees filled out with green. This time, though, she cried over [the theft of something precious to her]. Once again she was a victim of Pendragon cruelty-not King Uther, but his daughter, Morgana, and the magic she had so cruelly and carelessly let loose upon the city in order to shame Guinevere and drive her from Camelot._

_Salty hidden tears slid down her cheeks, some of them landing on the parched earth visible for just a moment before winking out of existence._

_Janet's tears were always successfully hidden, her scarf telling the story instead. It was only when she opened her front door that she raised her head, to show her tears to her grandmother and the golden flames making a circle round the pupil of her eyes.__  
><em>  
><strong>The Blighted Blossom, Tale the 3<strong>**rd**

The soldiers seemed to think that they were slaves. Never mind that she still had to work at the palace; she now had to come home and cook for them, clean up behind them, run their errands, entertain them sometimes, be friendly, and tell them stories. They'd taken over the house, too, crowding Janet and her grandmother into one tiny bedroom.

Then about a week into the occupation some relief came; three of the four soldiers living in her house were sent out on patrol. King Arthur had yet to appear and Morgana wanted him found. Janet found herself wishing for poison to slip into their food and drink. When they were gone she prayed night and day for them to fall and break their necks.

The fourth and the youngest of the soldiers, was still recovering from an injury to his leg. Though he was up and about, he didn't move well, and so he remained in her home.

The second evening after the soldiers' departure, Janet returned home to the smell of cooking and the sound of her grandmother's laugh.

She found the soldier that had stayed behind tending the spit and taking direction from her grandmother. Her grandmother sat at the wooden table smiling and showing missing teeth. Her thin gray hair covered with a kerchief, and her gnarled, knobby hands clasped on the rough wooden table in front of her. Janet had inherited her blonde hair and grey eyes from her grandmother, but warm brown skin and wideness of eyes from her father.

"Janet, Nacio offered to help out with dinner. Isn't that sweet?" Grandmother's voice trembled ever so slightly when she spoke.

"Thank you, Nacio."

It was a simple meal of fish stew with herbs and dumplings. The meal shared amongst the three of them was the beginning of a friendship between herself and Nacio. She learned that he was originally from Portugal and had began his career as an infantryman at the age of twelve. Since he had managed to survive to the age of fourteen, he'd been given wages and real training. He was a professional soldier; the thought made her ill. Still, he was living in her home and being pleasant, cooking meals, doing men's chores, and being polite to her grandmother, so they developed a friendship in spite of that.

They talked about the deaths in their families and eventually she told him about Leolin and their canceled wedding. He seemed truly saddened at her hardship and loneliness. Janet began to think of him as a true friend.

* * *

><p>She walked out of the servant's entrance to the palace and drew her shawl tight about her shoulders against the unexpected coolness of the evening breeze.<p>

"Janet."

"Leolin?" A well of heartbreak and confusion bubbled up in her at upon seeing him so close. For a moment she stared at him.

The only thing outstanding about Leolin's appearance were his eyes, they were the deep rich green of the forest. His hair was a plain brown, his height average, Leolin was a plain man, but when they had been courting she could have stared into the warm, rich, green of eyes his all day.

"I just finished my shift and I thought I might walk you home."

She thought of him rejecting her at Grigor's home, after the magistrate had told them about the bracelet.

"I-"

"I just want to walk you home, if that's not too much trouble." His eyes were soft and thoughtful, as they had been so many times before, and she could not, but remember when things had been good between them.

"Yes I think I'd like that."

"Are you and your grandmother well? It can't be easy with soldiers living in your home."

"It's not, but there is just the one right now, and he is helpful and friendly."

"They haven't hurt you or anything, have they?"

She shook her head. "No."

"I heard in some of the villages they burnt the crops of those that refused to submit."

Janet felt her blood boil and searched the streets for any sign of a patrol.

"If you had the Witch in your power what would you do?"

Leolin didn't say anything; merely gazed at her, eyes dark and thoughtful.

"It's her fault Sarah, Rolfe and John are dead, Gwen is gone, Dafyd died of an infection and now Enid is widowed. How many of our friends were shot and killed last year and us-"

"-I'd show her no mercy."

They ambled along talking about the months between the cancellation of their marriage and the invasion. Leolin did not leave her side until she was safely at her door.

She found her grandmother and Nacio inside sitting at the table. Her Grandmother was laughing long and loud at whatever story Nacio had been telling, while he grinned at her, pleased with the effect of his humor.

"We waited for you," Nacio said as her grandmother's laughter died down.

"Sorry. I walked home with a friend." She smiled. "I suppose we walked a little slowly."

"Well as long as you're all right..." Nacio smiled and gave her arm a gentle squeeze.

"We should eat this wonderful-smelling dinner," Janet said.

"Of course."

They supped on a dinner of bread, potatoes and carrots, and a roast chicken that Nacio had bought out of his wages. He told them funny stories of some of his past marches and campaigns and Janet found herself laughing at them. When they'd done and it had grown late Nacio got up to clean, but feeling more than a little grateful Janet insisted on doing the washing up. Nacio had nodded with a smile, gave her shoulders a gentle rub and left. She imagined he was joining some of his other friends. The soldiers were drinking up all the mead and ale in the city and doing a brisk business at the whorehouse.*

"Abelia," her grandmother oft called her by her mother's name. "Abelia do not be too friendly with this Nacio."

"Of course not Grandmother, he is a soldier and our enemy."

* * *

><p>Leolin walked her home the next three evenings. There was a curfew, but summer days were long and they could meander home avoiding the patrols that might otherwise harass them as they went.<br>"Janet..." Leolin halted them in front of an empty market stall. He produced a length of red ribbon, and

Janet felt her eyes go wide.

"When?"

"A while now. I couldn't get rid of it."

"Oh." She smiled.

"Here."

Their hands brushed as she took the ribbon, sending a delicious frisson through both of them.

"Thank you." She ducked her head, suddenly shy.

"I think I could forget everything if we keep having walks like this; talks like this," Leolin said.

She looked up at him now, not quite daring to believe what he was saying.

"It was in truth my fault. If I had only done my job as I was supposed to, you never would have worn that bracelet in the first place. I never stopped loving you, Janet."

She felt her gray eyes go wide and he leaned forward. For just a moment she savored the feel of his warm and work worn hands on her, his scent of basil and myrtle. She savored that brief moment of anticipation and the warmth of his skin close to hers and then she let her eyelids flutter close. His lips touched hers, a sweet chaste kiss where his mouth, warm and soft lay atop hers making her lips tingle with delight.

Afterward he put an arm around her shoulders and walked her home. It was near dark when they arrived and he gave her another quick kiss on the forehead before she went inside. Janet was all smiles through dinner. Nacio was quiet and irritable throughout, but grew friendly afterward. He even insisted on Grandmother taking her room back, claiming he felt guilty in keeping an old woman from her bed.

* * *

><p>"Janet."<p>

She opened her eyes; it was almost entirely dark in her little room. The light of the half moon spilled in through the bedroom window. Nacio was sitting on the edge of her bed; his pale eyes glittered in the moonlight. She sat up fully awake.

"Nacio," she said pulling the thin coverlet over her bare body. "What are you doing here?"

Fear began to churn in her stomach, while she waited for his answer.

"I heard you cry out. I thought something had happened to you." He placed his hands palm down on the bed on either side of her. "Don't worry Janet I've come to take care of you."

And then he kissed her, not the sweet, hope filled, loving kiss, she'd shared with Leolin, but a desperate forceful kiss that stank of wine and silenced her as he pushed her down and onto her back. Everything happened fast after that, his hands were everywhere. He hushed her, told her to be still, and threatened her grandmother even as he told her how pretty and sweet she was, how the strange combination of her dark skin and gray eyes enchanted him. She tried to think of a spell-think of anything, but fear froze her.

* * *

><p>At first light, Janet crept out of her home and headed straight for the bathhouse. She could, of course, have had a bath at home, but could not imagine doing such a thing now. The water was just getting hot when she arrived, and she had to wait in line a short while, smelling him on her skin every time she moved.<p>

He had forced himself her several times that night before finally going to lie down on his pallet by the hearth. He didn't seem to care that it had hurt, or that she had said no, he just hurt her. As she soaked Janet went over the meager spells that she had managed to teach herself and learned that she knew nothing that would harm Nacio or help her. She was no Morgana or Morguase, no prophesied hero, just one weak, lone woman.

She went directly from the bathhouse to work. Everyone was surprised that she was early, but there was plenty to do. Morgana, Lord Agravaine and Helios were all very demanding, eating up the stores and running the servants of the palace back and forth on the smallest of the errands. She wanted to go to Leolin, tell him about what Nacio did to her, wanted to see him stand up to Nacio for her, but-

-She remembered the way he had looked her when he'd found her with Neirin. How even when Magistrate Grigor had sat them done in his home and told them about the bracelet ,about Guinevere,about Morgana, the other women, he had still looked at her with anger and doubt. She didn't think she could bear another such rejection, not now. And if he did side with her against the soldier what could he do? He had no wealth, no authority. He would be hurt or worse. She chose to avoid him.

Janet remained at work as late as she dared; she didn't have permission to be out after curfew and she couldn't go to someone else's home for the night. Morgana's patrols did random head counts and bed checks.  
>At one point, Daisy reported to her that she'd seen Leolin waiting for her. She'd nearly burst into tears at the memory of the sweet kiss they'd shared only yesterday.<p>

For some naive reason it didn't occur to her that he'd do it again, so on the second night she was both surprised and horrified to wake and find him getting into bed with her. On the third night she wedged something under the door and though she heard him knocking and scraping at it, he seemed unwilling to raise a racket though and left her alone.

On the fourth morning when she woke, he was short and irritable with her, as if she had somehow wronged him. It occurred to her then that he had some expectation of lying with her nightly. Janet kept from crying and left immediately for work.

She did not go directly to the palace, but went instead to Magistrate Grigor's home. He was always a fair man and had even arranged for citizens housing soldiers to be given a break on food expenses. Perhaps he could have the soldier removed. However, when she sat down to tell her story; the words froze in her throat. Instead of telling him how she was being hurt, Janet found herself saying only that she would like Ignacio out of her home.

"I hear such complaints daily Janet," Grigor frowned. "No one wants the soldiers in their home. I have four of them in my home; you are only housing the one." He said with some sharpness. "You should consider yourself lucky."

_"Lucky!" _She shrieked and his frown turned into exasperation. Janet took a breath, Nacio had to go. "Please Magistrate Grigor listen, my grandmother and I- we're just a girl and an old woman, we shouldn't be housing soldiers."

He studied her and his expression softened.

"Is that it Janet? Is there nothing else you need to tell me?"

His tone softened and she tried to think of the words- How did she say what had happened?

"Janet?"

"Magistrate Grigor," the door of the office opened then. One of Morgana's soldiers stood there. "The Captain requires your immediate presence."

She felt a sick, sinking feeling in her stomach.

"I am working."

"C'pn wants you to work out at the smithy."

Another soldier came in then and Grigor frowned.

"I'm sorry Janet, but we all got to keep on dancin'."He forced a grin and then sighed. The magistrate got to his feet.

"But-"

"Wait here we'll talk about it some more when I return," he'd already turned his back on her. "Efan and Haf will take care of you." The three men left then, pulling the door shut behind them.

When they were gone she sat in the magistrate's study letting a few silent tears fall. How long would this go on? What if King Arthur never returned? The king had not lifted the ban on magic, but he was not burning people at the stake and he cared for the safety of the people at least he seemed to. She felt the sudden heave of sickness in her guts and clasped a hand to her mouth. That was when she saw it.

A knife with a brass hilt. For a long time she studied it, the smooth knob that topped the hilt, the spiral of gleaming brass along the hilt itself, the blade shining in the afternoon sunlight. She picked it up, tested it's sharpness against her thumb, and saw a fine line of red before she felt the pain. How easy it would be to hide it under her pallet. How simple to slide it into Nacio's side when he was forcing himself on her blind to her pain and lost in his own pleasure. Janet wrapped the blade in her kerchief and concealed it on her person willing it to be invisible to all eyes, but her own.

* * *

><p>Up next is the last of The Wartime Tales, The Fallen Shield, Gwaine's tale.<p>

A/N- trigger warning: rape


	23. The Exile, Wartime Tales, IV

Dear readers this is the last of the Wartime Tales. So far we've followed Elyan and his struggle between the conflicting duties to kin and country. We've met Hafreen and seen the war through the eyes of a girl on the cusp of womanhood. Revisted Janet, one of the bracelet victims and have seen how both Morgana's occupation of Camelot as well as Uther's war on magic affected her life and the life of her family. Now finaly we come to Sir Gwaine, knight of Camelot, through Gwaine we will see how Morgana's war and her previous other actions have affected the lives of the children of Camelot.

**Previously in The Exile**

"She looked- she had so many bruises old and new. I was no longer confused. I insisted that she live with us, my husband looked unhappy, but didn't argue. My change of heart came much too late though. 'Cita was so _changed._ She cried all the time, had nightmares and by god she was afraid everything. Eventually she confided to me that bandits had taken her sometime during the fall and kept her for the course of the winter. I also found out," she paused a strange and bitter smile on her face "I found out that when she would disappear for those two or three days at a time she was lying with some of the men from this very village, married ones. They gave her food and shelter in exchange for sex, the hypocrites! "

"Some men have no sense of honor about them," Gwaine muttered.

_**Gwaine after hearing Tilda's story in Chapter 8**_

Arthur leaned forward and Gwaine knew he had the king's undivided attention.

"I refused at first, but their want for a child weighed on them and eventually I gave in. It took a while, months actually and she was sweet, kind, and pretty. Of course I came to love her, but she did not bear the same love for me."

_**Sir Gwaine to King Arthur in Chapter 11**_

The place looked to have been abandoned for perhaps two weeks.

"What will you do Sir Elyan? You could take the advanced party into Camelot. It could make all the difference?" Lord Constans looked at him waiting.

Elyan stared back at the other man feeling as if he had somehow stumbled into a trap.

**_Lord Constans to Sir Elyan in Chapter 20_**

* * *

><p><span><strong>"Look at him Gwaine. He's perfect," Adras said.<strong>

_His first memory of his son was the grip of tiny pink fingers, the length of his fingernail, holding firm to his__index finger. He'd waited awkwardly in the hall after everything had grown quiet, curious and eager, but uncertain of his place. After all, the child wasn't for him. Esobal would be Adras and Isobelle's son, a child of Isobelle's body and as much of Adras as he could be. _

_ Once Isobelle and the boy were comfortably settled, Adras had come to him, brought him into the hallowed halls of the lying-in room. _

_ "Look at him Gwaine. He's perfect," his sister had smiled and handed him the little bundle. The boy's pale face had still been quite red, his infant-blue eyes blinking, and he'd been breathing those fast shallow breaths that infants breathed. Somehow the baby had smelled sweet; he had not known that babies actually smelled sweet._

_ He'd taken the boy, then unnamed, amazed that the length of his hand was half the length of the infant's body and stroked his tiny face. He hadn't known what he expected; Gwaine had no experience that he could recall with babies. The little one had reached out and gripped his finger then and he'd felt a smile bloom on his face._

_ "He'll be a fine swordsman with that grip." He'd looked up at Adras and Isobelle and saw that they were smiling as well. All the awkwardness seemed to evaporate then and for a moment they were three proud parents._

_ Eight days later Isobelle was dead._

_ Ten days later she had been buried._

_ The boy was called Esobal after his mother._

_ Eleven days later Gwaine held Esobal and looked into his eyes. They remained blue, but a summer sky blue that he had, Gwaine was certain, inherited from his mother. He'd left Wyeledon that day. He'd thought often on Esobal's grip and his sky blue eyes over the next eight months, treasured them until he'd seen the child again._

**"Don't try Gwaine, and he'll come to you."**

_ Adras showed her growing skill as a mother with those words. Less than half an hour later Esboal had crawled away from the game he had been playing with Ambry to tug on Gwaine's pant leg. Gwaine had looked down and been struck by the idea that he was looking into a miniature of his face with Isobelle's eyes._

_ Over the next few years he had reflected on that. With each visit he saw more and more of himself in Esobal. It seemed an injustice somehow that Esobal should reflect so little of the woman who had purchased his life with her death, in his look and manner. But there was no unraveling the mysteries of life or God._

**"You're a knight!" **

_He made a trip to Wyeledon just before Morgana tore the veil and unleashed the dorocha upon them. Lancelot had come with him on that visit, keeping the secret of Gwaine's son from the others. Lancelot was good at keeping secrets. None of them suspected that he'd harbored any feelings for Guinevere._

_ "You're a knight of Camelot!" _

_Esobal had grinned and his eyes sparkled. He'd asked questions about everything, their cloaks, their mail, their armor, their swords, and even Morgana. He wanted to know everything about his _Uncle_ Gwaine, knight of Camelot. _

_"They say the knights of Camelot are the best." Those summer sky eyes, Esobal's eyes had shown with a pride Isobelle's gaze had never turned on him. Being the receiver of that gaze Gwaine's heart had swelled with an emotion he hadn't known he'd ached for until that moment even as it twisted._

* * *

><p><span><strong>The Fallen Shield, Tale the 4<strong>**th**

Gwaine stared down at two small pale faces, each white as clay. Both shared large dark eyes, each pair widened with equal measures of fright, all other identifying features hidden by the foliage they peered out of. He smiled, their eyes found the golden dragon badge on the cape fastening at his shoulder. The fear went out as recognition crept in.

"Sir Gwaine?"

"Yes."

The child stood then, emerging from the thicket she'd been hiding in revealing a linen cap of dull dark green embroidered with little yellow and blue flowers along its edge and simple dark green surge dress with matching embroidery on its hem. It was a perfect dress for hiding amongst the growing things. She looked perhaps older than Esobal, but not as old as Ambry, Gwaine put her age at eight years.

The knight crouched so that they were eye-to-eye.

"You have me at a disadvantage, young lady. You know my name, but I don't know yours."

The girl smiled.

"I'm Delwyn, this is my brother Gronw, stand-up Gronw."

"Huwyl told us to hide." Gronw's voice was high and soft and Gwaine thought he was perhaps five years-old.

"We don't have to hide from the knights, silly."

"That's right," Gwaine smiled. "You're smart Delwyn. It's a knight's duty to protect Camelot's citizens."

The girl's smile broadened.

"Thank you," she said.

"Whose Huwyl?" Gwaine asked.

"Our older brother, he's thirteen." Delwyn explained.

"Oh."

"He went to make certain it was safe and then we're going to find something to eat."

"Do you have anythin' to eat?" Gronw asked still hiding in the thicket.

"I'm afraid not," Gwaine shook his head. "But I know where there is food."

"Truly?" The boy smiled and straightened up, he was dressed in equally dark and outworn clothing.

"Huwyl!" Delwyn shouted her brother's name and darted across the clearing. She threw her arms around him. Gwaine's mouth twisted into a small, wry smile as he watched the reunion between brother and sister.

"Gronw, come over here, _now_." Huwyl glared at Gwaine and the boy's eyes widened as if he were in trouble.

Huwyl was a slightly taller version of the smaller children perhaps a bit short for thirteen. His dirt smudged face bore faint fuzzing of hair above his lip. Gronw went to his brother's side and Huwyl's dark gaze turned defiant.

"You must be Huwyl." Gwaine said getting to his feet.

The boy turned his back on Gwaine and bent down to address his siblings.

"I told you two to hide and not talk to strangers."

"But Sir Gwaine isn't a stranger, he's a knight," Delwyn said.

"Even worse!" Huwyl cast a defiant glare over his shoulder before turning his attention back to his siblings. "We can do better on our own."

"Can you?" Gwaine asked. He couldn't let three children go off alone.

Huwyl rose and faced him then.

"Yes we can." The boy met his eyes and raised his chin in defiance.

"You-" Gwaine took a deep breath and stopped. He'd been about to shout at the boy, tell him that he couldn't, that it wasn't possible. But he couldn't do that. He wanted the children to come with him of their own accord, if only for the little one's sake.

No one knew where Arthur and Merlin had gone on their mysterious quest. It would not be long before Morgana's men infested the woods in search of him. While there might be no good reason for them to harass three children, Gwaine knew better than to think that they wouldn't. Huwyl was just the right age for the infantry and there were those who saw children –smaller and weaker- not as people to respect or protect, but as targets subject to their wills.

"No Huwyl, you can't. We've stores of food, supplies, laid in at Castle Gogwyn, and it is a strong shelter, only a day's march from here. You'll have all the food you need, a roof over your head, and the protection of the knights."

The boy glared on the last word and Gwaine silently cursed himself.

"We don't need the knight's help." Huwyl turned back towards his siblings. "We're going."

"But I want to go with sir Gwaine," Delwyn said in a loud whisper, "he's a knight."

"Me too," Gronw said. Delwyn started forward and Huwyl, his hand still on her shoulder jerked her backwards. The girl shrieked even as Gwaine started forward.

"Hey now, don't treat your little sister like that."

"These are my sister and brother and we're not going with you!" Huwyl turned his attention back to his siblings. "You can't trust the knights remember." Huwyl said and his tone softened. "I'm sorry I pulled on your arm Delwyn."

"It's okay." Delwyn gave Gwaine a look filled with sad regret and took her brother's hand, such a grown up expression on a child's face.

"Bye Sir Gwaine," Gronw said as the group of siblings turned away.

"You can take them away off into the woods and you can keep them from whoever you like. You're their brother, they will listen to you. You can try to keep them safe, but you can't do it on your own," Gwaine spoke to Huwyl remembering what it was like for him. "What if something happens to you? What if you run into soldiers?"

"We'll manage." Huwyl said with all the confidence untested youth.

"Will you? How will you manage when you can't find enough food for all three of you? When one of them is sick? When both of them are sick?" He took a breath and felt a trembling in his voice on his next words. "When you're wet and chilled from the rain and you haven't eaten in three days, and Gronw is sick with fever and Delwyn is starving? How will you _manage then_?"

Huwyl faced him then and he could see doubt and fear flash in the youth's eyes. Gwaine got the sense then that if he said the wrong thing the child would turn away from him.

"Huwyl I don't know why you don't trust the knights of Camelot, but I'm giving you _my _wordto see you to safety. If you don't like Castle Gogwyn no one will try to make you stay."

"Your word?" Huwyl's dark eyes met his and Gwaine knew he had reached the boy.

"My word of honor." Gwaine said it with all the solemnity that he could muster.

"And we can leave anytime we want?"

"Anytime," he confirmed with a nod.

Huwyl held his eyes a moment longer.

"Fine."

The younger children cheered and Gwaine felt a vague stirring of concern. He didn't know how Camelot or its knights had disappointed them in the past, but he knew he couldn't add another bad memory to the pile.

* * *

><p>Of course a day's march with two small children and a sullen adolescent was a very different thing from a day's march with the knights of Camelot. By noon they'd only covered half the ground the knights would have covered. Gronw and Delwyn complained of being hungry so much so that they made their first stop well before noon to gather berries to fill their little bellies. They found blackberries, blueberries, and gooseberries, enough to halt their complaining, but not their chattering mouths. They gave commentary on everything they passed and shared information that was news to them as if it would impress the whole world. Gwaine had forgotten how annoying children could be when they didn't have some game or chore to occupy them.<p>

By the time lunch hour came though they were complaining of their hunger again, looking up at him, taking hold of his hand and asking for food in soft high pitched voices. At last Gwaine halted them near a stream. Huwyl dug up some roots to clean and roast for them while Gwaine tested his speed against the fish and failed.

He was not happy being outside of Camelot, but the king had orders about what was to happen if Camelot fell into Morgana's hands. They were not to allow themselves to be taken. As Morgana's prisoners they represented an unacceptable danger to the people. If the city could not be held, they were to retreat and regroup at the Castle Gogwyn or die in the people's defense. Since the invaders had not been pillaging or harming the citizens Gwaine felt his best choice had been a retreat. He didn't like it, but the king's orders were to be followed. More desperate plans had been made, but there had been no time to enact them. Gwaine didn't know if that was a curse or a blessing.

* * *

><p><em>"This Merlin and Arthur have made some impression on you."<em>

_ Adras rocked backwards in her chair, casual posture at odds with her formal attire._

_ "Merlin is a good friend- and I," he considered his words a moment, "I respect Prince Arthur."_

_ "Well, I am taken aback that of all the royals in Britannia, _you_ would consider serving the son of The Great Hypocrite."_

_ Gwaine chuckled._

_ "If I didn't know the stories, I'd think the apple hadn't fallen from that tree at all."_

_ "Oh-hoo!" Adras dark eyes widened and Gwaine shrugged._

_"So if Arthur offers you service when he is king, you will take it?"_

_ "You know me; I don't like to stay in one place for too long." He'd sipped his wine._

_ "Yes, yes I do." She sounded annoyed and Gwaine frowned as he realized his mistake. Adras had never fully forgiven him for leaving after Isobelle's death._

_ "Adras-"_

_ "It no longer troubles me Gwaine. You are who you are. Isobelle and I asked for your help conceiving a child, nothing else." She looked at him as if daring him to challenge her. "The maid is taking too long. I am going to get us some more wine," She said when he remained silent. _

_ He'd sat there, regretting his words until she'd returned wine uncorked. _

_"Is it me?" She'd asked as she filled their goblets. "Do I put you in mind of mom? I know Esobal makes you feel guilty about Isobelle, even though she was _my_ wife_._"_

_ He flinched inside, but somehow held his peace._

_ "But that's not it. You were never good at being around, even before Isobelle died. Even when I was paying you to guard my caravans you weren't around, you were moving with them."_

_ She handed him his goblet and resumed her seat._

_ "Adras, my sister, my heart, you know how deeply I love you."_

_ "Do not mistake me dear brother. It is not your heart I challenge, but your fickleness."_

_ "I-I don't know," he replied unwilling to probe the recesses of his heart._

_ "Well," she said at last. "Esobal is fine with his _Uncle_ Gwaine." Adras took a sip of her wine._

_ She'd meant it to hurt and it did, but he did not complain of it. She'd practically begged him to stay after Isobelle had died, but he couldn't. Guilt, grief and jealousy had been his reasons for leaving then, but she was right he always found reasons to leave._

* * *

><p>Huwyl set the turnips he'd dug up to roast. As they cooked Gwaine set about sharpening a good strong branch into a spear for fishing. With the little ones along the march would be at least two days. He didn't think the children could make do with berries and roots. When the neeps* were done Huwyl offered the larger share to him, but Gwaine refused. He wouldn't suffer for a few skipped meals and his aim would be that much sharper when he tried his hand at fishing later.<p>

Huwyl had studied him a moment before giving Gwaine's share to his siblings. Delwyn and Gronw gobbled them up as if they were fine fare.

* * *

><p>They did not reach the Castle Gogwyn by nightfall, but Gwaine had not expected they would. He halted them early, and headed down to a wide stream in hopes of having better luck spear fishing. The knight speared a large trout on his first try. The children cheered with delight when he returned to their camp, catch held high and even Huwyl looked at him with grudging admiration.<p>

The trout was large enough to feed them full and when the little ones asked for a story Gwaine found himself volunteering.

"I have the perfect story for you. I used to tell it to my younger sister when we were your age."

Delwyn and Gronw grinned at him and Gwaine launched into his tale.

* * *

><p>They finished off the trout in the morning and got off to an even slower start than they had yesterday. When Gwaine investigated he discovered that Gronw had a blister on his foot. Not liking the looks of it and knowing that it would only slow the boy down; Gwaine hoisted the child up on his shoulders.<p>

They had been lucky yesterday; he did not expect their luck to hold. Arthur had not been in the city when it fell and that meant Morgana would be sending out patrols. He suspected that only Magistrate Grigor knew where the king had gone and he did not know if he should be worried or grateful. If Morgana became aware of that- and it was only a matter of time before she did, Grigor and his family would be in grave danger.

Gronw told him stories and tugged on his hair as they marched. The stories were the kind that would delight a six year old, but somehow he found them less annoying today. Perhaps it was the child's delight that drew him in. Delwyn kept near to him as well, showing off with flips and cartwheels when they took breaks. Gwaine praised every good thing she did just as he would with Esobal and Ambry. Huwyl only glared at all of them more.

On the second night they camped at the base of the hills. They'd start the climb to Gogwyn Castle in the morning. Gwaine managed to bring down a ptarmigan for their dinner that night and they ate it with watercress and turnip greens.

"Huwyl, where are your parents?"

The boy glared at him and stalked away into the woods. Since it was still early Gwaine let him go, Huwyl knew better than to go too far.

"Our parents were shot." Delwyn said when her brother had gone.

"Oh I-"

"-Morgana did it," Gronw whispered.

"She wanted the knights to swear and they didn't," Delwyn explained.

"I'm sorry about your mom and dad."

"You weren't a knight then, were you?" Gronw crawled into his lap.

"No! Sir Gwaine is a commoner knight, he came after that."

The three of them were silent for a while.

"How have you lived the past year?"

"With our Aunt Anne and Uncle Joseph," Delwyn said.

"Uncle Joe said Aunt Anne was a whore like 'Wenevere and all women were evil," Gronw reported and Gwaine frowned.

"That's not a very nice thing to say."

"That's what Uncle Joe says," Delwyn insisted.

"Uncle Joe is mean," Gronw said.

"Listen Gwen is my friend and she and your Aunt Anne made a mistake. Perhaps they should be forgiven."

The two children stared at him.

"You children know the holy man Jesus?"

They nodded.

"Well one day he was at the temple and a group of Pharisees came to him with a test as they often did. They brought a woman, a prostitute they said, who had been caught in the act of adultery, but they did not bring the man." Gwaine thought of Gwen and *Tilda's sister, for a moment. "Anyway they presented the woman-"

"What does presented mean?" Gronw asked.

"Sorry," Gwaine said. "They 'um- told Jesus of her crime and asked him what should be done. Jesus, being much wiser and cleverer than they, gave back a challenge of his own. He said to the Pharisees let he who is without sin cast the first stone and then he bowed his head. When he raised it again the Pharisees had gone and only the woman remained. She explained that all who would have condemned her had gone. Jesus told the woman that he did not condemn her either and to go and sin no more.

Now has your Uncle Joe ever sinned?"

"He swears!" Delwyn said and Gronw giggled.

"And do the two of you always do everything just right?"

They shook their heads.

"Gronw spilled his porridge!" Delwyn pointed at her brother.

"You told a fib 'bout who ate the 'serves!" The boy stuck his tongue out at her.

"And now you're both throwing stones at each other."

The two children gasped and shut their mouths.

"We all do things wrong and we get forgiven, just like the woman in the story."

They nodded.

"So Uncle Joe should forgive Aunt Ann?" Gronw asked.

"Yes, if she is sorry. Do you think she is sorry?" Gwaine smiled.

Gronw nodded.

"She cries a lot and begs Uncle Joe to forgive her over and over," Delwyn sounded very sad now.

"Then yes she too should be forgiven, just like wives always forgive their husbands for their own adultery."

Delwyn's eyes widened.

"You don't think women are bad?" The girl asked.

"No Delwyn, they just make mistakes just as men do. In fact," Gwaine smiled now, "some of the most honorable people I know, are women."

A smile, wide and bright lit her young face then and the sadness he'd glimpsed in her eyes faded. Gwaine sighed inwardly. How hard it must have been to hear her uncle curse her aunt and condemn all women as evil. She yawned, and leaned her dark head on his knee.

"Tell us a story sir Gwaine," Gronw said.

"Very well, what you like to hear?"

"About the orphans," Delwyn replied.

Gwaine took a breath to begin and saw Huwyl had returned camp. The youth stood on the edge of the little clearing they were in watching them with curious eyes.

* * *

><p><em>"Here." Ten year old Gwaine shoved the tiny cloth wrapped bundle into her hands and glanced around at the other children. Some eyed the two of them, hunger evident in their eyes and pinched faces; others turned their thoughts inward, focused on their own misery and pain. Adras unwrapped the little bundle and grinned at the sight of two chicken legs. <em>

_Adras denuded the bones of their meat, skin, gristle, and fat, everything in seconds, long, delicate fingers tearing away the flesh at an astonishing rate. When the bones were naked she tested them with her teeth and finding them malleable began to chew, unwilling to lose a morsel of food._

_When she'd done Adras wiped greasy fingers on her tunic before looking up at him._

_"You didn't eat," she said._

_"I couldn't wait," Gwaine replied. "I ate my share on the way home."_

_Her red brows knitted together in a frown. He watched her hands as she absently tucked a stray curl behind her ear._

_"What?" Adras asked catching his eyes on her._

_"Nothing."_

_Another lie. When they'd first come to the city an older boy had suggested Adras learn to lift purses and pick pockets. Her pixie's face would charm the heartless and her nimble fingers would deprive noblemen of their purses before they knew what happened. But the punishment for getting caught stealing was a thief's mark the first time, hand on the chopping block the second time. He couldn't let her take the risk. _

_His stomach rumbled and she shivered. It was growing colder by the day. How would they live come winter? The thief gang lived well compared to them and it seemed more and more worth the risk. Freeze to death, starve to death, get a thief mark, loose a hand to the cold, loose a hand on the chopping block. The end was always the same._

_She shivered again._

_"Come here."_

_She scooted over and tucked her head against his shoulder even as he put an arm around her._

_"Tell me again about daddy at the orphanage Gwaine."*_

_"Of course."_

* * *

><p>They started into the Gogwyn foothills under a clear, bright, summer sky. The hills rose and fell in gentle slopes, with heavy blanket of green grass and shrubbery and a scattering of trees. Gwaine took the lead and Huwyl tail as they began their climb. The roll of the hills was easy enough that the younger children needed very little help; still Gwaine kept a careful eye on both of them. They topped the first of the hills perhaps two hours after sunrise. They made good time on the second rise, but found themselves breathless and panting on the third. Gwaine called for a halt and Delwyn and Gronw flopped dramatically to the ground.<p>

"You think my Aunt Ann should be forgiven?" Huwyl asked sitting down beside him.

"She said she is sorry," Gwaine replied.

"But what she did-"

"Married men use brothels freely without condemnation and their wives accept it. Your aunt had an affair and it's the greatest treachery, she can be killed for it."

"But-but it's different for men."

"Is it? Why so?" Gwaine challenged the Huwyl now. He knew his opinions were unpopular with other men, but he'd never cared for hypocrisy of any sort.

"It just is!" The boy declared. "She could have had a bastard."

"Did she?"

"No," the boy admitted.

"All right then. Look Huwyl, saying it is all well and good for men to use brothels, but then refusing to forgive your aunt is hypocrisy of the worst kind. Do deny this?"

Gwaine held the boy's eyes daring Huwyl to challenge him. At last the youth looked away.

"Almost time for us to start again." Gwaine got to his feet.

"Just a little longer," Delwyn begged.

"Pleassseee!" Gronw looked at him pleadingly."I'm tired and looking at the clouds is fun."

Huwyl and Gwaine grimaced at each other and Huwyl gave him a deferential nod.

"Just a bit longer and then we're going," Gwaine said.

Both children cheered and laid back down to stare up at the clouds again. Gwaine started to sit and froze. From the top of the third rise you could easily see across the tops of the first and second hills. Gwaine swallowed and waited.

_A flash, light, bouncing off metal. _

In the next moment they topped the rise and came into view. Gwaine felt a sinking in his stomach. Men, not Camelot's uniformed knights or guards, but with the motely look of Morgana's crew dressed in padded leather and the occasional piece of plate armor.

"Up, up children, Morgana's men are behind us!"

They started down into the valley with far less concern than they'd taken going up, speed now being paramount to all their concerns.

When they started up the fourth rise Gwaine lifted Delwyn to his shoulders and told Huwyl to do the same with Gronw. They made better time to the top of the fourth rise, but looked back to see Morgana's men top the third.

"Hurry now." He set Delwyn on her feet even as Huwyl did the same. The children started down, but Gwaine waited and took count of Morgana's men. There were five men in the patrol; Gwaine swore under his breath and started down slope. He stretched his legs as long as he could and closed the gap between himself and the children in moments.

"Hold," Gwaine slipped off his pack, when they reached the valley floor.

The children stopped and looked at him expectantly.

"I'm not going with you."

Delwyn's eyes widened and Gronw let out a little gasp.

"Why?" Huwyl demanded.

"Morgana's men will be here any moment. We can't outrun them and if the others haven't made it Castle Gogwyn then leading Morgana's men there could turn the safe haven into a trap." Gwaine explained.

"B-but you'll be by yourself," Delwyn complained.

"No buts Delwyn, just keep going. Only one more hill after this and the path curves to the left. I don't think they will follow the three of you further into the hills, but you need to go now."

"But we don't want to leave you Sir Gwaine." Gronw hugged his knee and Gwaine sighed.

"I'm a knight of Camelot and a man of honor Gronw, the shield between you and them. Now let me go so I can give you a proper hug good-bye, hmm?"

"Listen to him," Huwyl said.

Gronw released his leg and took a step backwards. Gwaine crouched and the two youngest threw their arms around his neck, pressing tiny kisses to either side of his face.

"Go with your brother. He'll look after you." Gwaine released them and stood. Gronw and Delwyn took a step backwards.

"Thank you Sir Gwaine," Huwyl said unhappiness plain on his face. He took Huwyl's arms in the clasp exchanged between two men. "God bless you."

"Thank you Huwyl, hurry."

The boy turned and herded his brother and sister up the slope. Gwaine watched them several moments before pulling his cape from his pack. He unfurled the length of scarlet and watched it wave a moment in the after breeze before fastening it to his shoulders with the Pendragon badges. He glanced again at the children and smiled to see that they were half way up the hill, the path already curving. Gwaine watched until the curve of the path took them from his sight. He turned then to face the direction Morgana's men would come from, knowing he didn't have long to wait now.

"Ha, mom, five against one, what kind of chance do you think I have?" He still talked to his mother when he was alone. "But it's a good thing right, protecting the little ones, keeping the enemy from Castle Gogwyn?"

He heard shouts then and looked up to see Morgana's men top the fourth rise. A sick sinking feeling settled, in his stomach. The wind blew again, pushing the puffy white clouds across the sun and stealing away its warmth even as it ruffled Gwaine's hair and snapped his cape. He looked round a moment at the grass rippling and shimmering in the summer breeze, took in the sparse trees and sighed. Gwaine took a deep breath, loosed his sword in its sheath, settled his hand on the hilt, and waited, nothing more than a dot in the valley.

* * *

><p>* Neeps- medieval word for turnips<p>

*Since it was asked Gwaine and Elyan were both present when Tilda told her sister's story.


	24. The Exile,Chapter The Right and the Left

_**Previously in The Exile**_

_Arthur brought his hand to Gwen's ring stroked the warm metal between his thumb and forefinger. The rage receded, the sea grew calm. He saw the churned muddied earth for what it was, footprints, lots of footprints, rank upon rank of them and then the most brutal pain knifed through his skull. Arthur gasped and his eyes watered, his vision blurred round the edges. He staggered two or three steps while the world did somersaults before collapsing face first in the dirt as his bowels voided themselves...**Chapter 18, Two Roads**_

_He had pushed the carved oaken box to the back of the wardrobe but of course it was still there. He pulled it forward now, throat and chest growing tight at the memory of her tricking him into buying his own present. He thought briefly of the little things she'd made for him, filling it and making it far more valuable with gifts of love, a pair of knitted socks, a pair of gloves, a belt and a bottle of woodsy cologne all made by her own hand, strawberry jam his favorite. They were not in there now of course. The jam had long since been eaten and accessories were all safely put away...**Chapter 10, In the Mourning**_

_Guinevere opened her eyes. Why did her foot hurt? She looked down and saw her foot in the mouth of a large brown bear with a torn ear. Without thinking, Guinevere screamed and kicked the bear with her free leg. The bear looked up in puzzlement. She screamed again and leapt to her feet. She absolutely had to get away!...**Chapter 4, The Bear, The Bird, and The Bandit**_

* * *

><p><strong>The Exile, Part II Jenafere, Chapter XIV: The Right and The Left<strong>

The box did not look like something her brother would own. Arthur paid little attention to these types of details. His choices were often plain. This box was not. It was a pale golden wood carved with a sea scene. Neptune rode a chariot on the waves. In his right hand his trident and on his head his crown. He was surrounded by dolphins and mermaids bouying on the waves, the rising or perhaps setting sun behind them. No, not something Arthur would own, but there it had been set in the back of his wardrobe, hidden, perhaps for safekeeping.

Morgana sat at Arthur's worktable, studying the small wooden chest in the mid-morning sunlight. She had taken his room for hers. His wardrobe while plain was of good quality, she would make a gift of it to one of the men in her employ, perhaps Captain Alfwald along with some of his other things. Her own wardrobe was being brought out of storage though she had little interest in the vivid blues, greens, purples and reds. These days she favored mourning black.

For the moment she still wore her fraying black lace dress. Her heavy black robe was in the hands of the palace servants to be laundered. Morgana stroked her hair and revelled a moment in the softness of the strands. For months now the simple idea of washing and styling her own hair had left her exhausted and plus who would see it to care. In truth she did not know much about styling her hair, Gwen had always done that. This morning she'd had servants brought to wash and comb her hair. They'd done nothing fancy, styled it in a simple braid, and tied it with a black ribbon. Her hair was soft now, smooth, free of tangles and knots. She couldn't keep her fingers from it.

Morgana returned her attention to the box. It was the incongruity of it that made her curious. She saw no obvious locking mechanism, but the lid did not open when she tried it. She studied the scene, Neptune in particular. She pressed the crown on his head nothing happened. Now she pushed at the trident and felt it shift under her fingertip. She pushed at it a bit more and felt it slide downward to rest on the beak of one of the dolphins. Morgana smiled and tried the lid, it did not open.

She looked at the scene again. She pushed at the beak of the dolphin the trident now rested on and smiled as it slid downward to point to the fin of one of the meremaids. She slid the fin downward and it tipped to the bottom of the scene. Morgana tried the lid again and lifted it with ease now. The familiar cloying scent of magnolia and vanilla wafted upwards and she frowned.

_A keepsake box! The Sentimental fool._ Morgana dumped the contents of the box onto Arthur's work table.

Two pathetic shriveled roses, one rough linen token -the kind a poor girl might give her beau in imitation of a lady and her knight, a weather eaten leather thong, a yellowing card and two bracelets. One a gleaming cuff with rubies and the other the round of silver she'd used to ruin Guinevere. She lifted her handiwork with bare fingertips having no fear of how its magic might affect her. Her hatred of her brother flared, Morgana dropped it with a thud. What pathetic, simpering words had Guinevere written Arthur?

_Dear Arthur,_

_I know you are surprised to find this box once again in your possession, but you were always the intended recipient. These items, are just a few small tokens so that you may know you fill my thoughts, on this, the day of your birth._

_Love G_

She snorted again. Sentimental fools the pair of them. Morgana dropped the card onto the table, and her eyes strayed to the bracelet. If Arthur had that then he must have somehow learnt of the enchantment.

The tale now was that Guinevere had died on the road, slain by a bandit. For just a moment Morgana felt a twinge of feeling akin to what she'd felt when Uther had died. A hard thing killing your own father or causing the death of a former friend. Guinevere never should have stepped out of her place. If the other woman had remained at her side then she might now live. When Guinevere aligned herself and her fate with Arthur and the kings that oppressed magic users, her life became forfeit.

How Arthur must be anguished. With Guinevere gone, perished in her banishment and him now knowing that she had never willfully betrayed him. Her brother would suffer mightily over that. A sudden smile came to her lips. Doubly destroyed by his own foolishness. She would remind him of this before she killed him. Of course, they had to find him first. They'd only taken Camelot the previous evening and she spared no time for rest.

Already patrols were out looking for Arthur. He'd departed on some unknown quest the day before they had arrived, taking only Merlin with him. As yet she'd found none that knew the destination of this mission. He had to be found. As long as Arthur were free, his whereabouts unknown, Camelot would not rest easily under her rule.

Another trouble was the knights. Some had been slain, but others had fled. According to Agravaine, Arthur had given an order that neither knights nor Camelot must come under her control. Knights must flee or fall and Camelot- if it came to it, Camelot must be set aflame. If they had had the opportunity it would have worked too.

A burnt city provided neither food nor shelter to her army. Without spoils the men must starve, desert, or expend time and energy in building their own shelter and securing their own food. Of course Arthur had not anticipated her use of the siege tunnels nor that she had sent men ahead of time to the two hill forts where provisions had been laid to shelter the people or knights fleeing her. If any of Arthur's knights made it to the hill forts they would receive quite a surprise. They had outmaneuvered him at every turn.

Her eyes went again to the bracelet. She had only rumors of Gwen's death, Arthur was absent and many of the knights successfully fled. How many times had she been on the edge of victory only to have it snatched from her grasp? She would take no chances.

She would use her magic to scry Arthur's location and when he was found she would make certain of Guinevere's fate. Merlin must also be disposed of. The manservant was at the center of too many things and knew too much.

There came a knock at the door.

"Yes."

"Your majesty, I have the materials for your coronation gown." The words floated through the wood.  
>"Enter."<p>

The seamstress, a tall, broad, but well attired matron entered with several maids carrying bolts of black fabric in silk, satin, brocades, and linen. It had been a long time since she'd had a new gown.

"Which would you like your majesty?"

"Use the black brocade and the satin," She said after a moment's consideration. Then she lifted the silver and ruby cuff bracelet from the table. It was beautiful. Morgana settled the bracelet on her left wrist, the right was always adorned by the healing bracelet she'd gotten from her sister.

Then very carefully using the linen token Gwen must have given to Arthur she picked up the other bracelet. Uther had captured and stored many powerful magical artifacts in Camelot's basement. She would take the bracelet to store there herself as well as have a look in Uther's treasure chest. She did not doubt there would be some useful weapon there.

Morgana started for the door eager to have the stolen artifacts in her hands.

"Is there anything else my lady?"

She paused and faced the seamstress and surveyed the collection on the table.

"Yes," her voice was rich with disdain, "have someone dispose of that junk, but leave the box here."

* * *

><p>Arthur lifted his head only to have it drop face first back into the dirt. Pain knifed through his skull with a strength that rivaled the agony that had felled him. He coughed, his mouth filled with earth, and he started to choke. He lifted, or tried to lift his head again, but managed only to lift his forehead before dropping it back to the danced in front of his eyes. He wasn't getting enough air, but he didn't have the strength to lift his head. Panic seized him as his heart began to beat a desperate rhythm against his breast. He was going to suffocate and die in pile of dirt.<p>

_No!_

If he couldn't lift his head, push himself up, maybe he could just turn it. He ignored the dancing stars, the spinning sensations, fought the blistering agony in his head, shifted to the right and gulped a full breath of air the moment he could.

Arthur opened his eyes, whimpered and shut them. The sunlight, normal, beautiful golden-white light, burned white-hot bright, the ache in his head exploded to dominate all that he knew or thought.

Still though -praise all gods- it lessened. Arthur began to note little things, like bird song, the buzzing of flies -he thought there was one on his face- and a beam of sunlight warming his feet. He must have been in the woods, but why? The ache in his head stabbed through his skull with an unexpected agony and Arthur lay whimpering until it passed.

The fly buzzed near his ear and he batted it away with one trembling hand. The pain shot through his head again and Arthur felt his body clench in response as the pain blotted out his awareness of all else.

When the pain receded for the third time he was starting to feel warm, the sun was heating his armor. The sticky foulness in his pants grew fragrant with the afternoon heat. Arthur wanted to open his eyes, _see anything_, but his earlier experience warned him away from such action. He felt the fly land on his cheek again and thought about batting it away, but the strength lapsed so that he could not lift his arm. As the pain in his head lessened further Arthur slipped into unconsciousness wishing the pest away.

When he came to awareness for the second time, the stabbing pain that had been shooting through his head had lessened to a spot of constant firey heat. With the pain having lessened he wondered, hoped that perhaps his eyes were better. Time had passed. He was warmer and if he could at least see...

Arthur cracked open his right eye and gasped shutting it almost the moment he had opened it. Blinding white spots danced on his lid and his right eye began to smart. Had he some sort of blindness?

_No!No!_ He told himself. To be blind was to be in the dark, this was different, this would pass, it had were other things to attend.

Though he lay motionless Arthur could feel a trembling, weakness in his limbs, and his armor pressed against his abdomen making stirring a slight nausea in his stomach. Arthur wanted to push himself upwards, roll over onto his back, relieve the pressure on his middle. He got as far as getting his hands under him and pushing up onto his palms before passing out and falling forward.

Arthur woke to the sound of buzzing and he was hot or rather his armor was hot . His chest, torso, face, everything was flushed with a nauseating heat, the dryness in his mouth made his tongue stick to his teeth as rank sweat poured from his skin. The metal armor dug into his flesh and everywhere his skin touched the hot metal it burned. His arms ached with numbness under the weight of his body. He didn't know how long he'd been lying on them, but fear made his heart pound a second time as he recalled stories of knights and soldiers who'd lain unconscious or otherwise trapped on some limb. When they were rescued the trapped limb was dead, and had to be amputated.

The fear was enough to make Arthur push himself upward. The buzzing started again, louder than before. He had the presence of mind to fling his limbs outward as he fell forward again, too weak to support his own weight. The torment in his head flared into life when he fell and he let out a little whimper. Something was very, very wrong. He needed help.

"Aaaaaa….," he tried to call for Merlin, but what he heard was a garbled whisper.

Another memory came to him now. Another danger that a wounded knight might be prey to during the long sunny, summer days. The metal armor that protected them from mortal blows became a weapon leveled at the heart as the summer sun heated metal plates and baked the knights trapped therein. _He needed help._

He concentrated now, fought the creeping exhaustion. Merlin had to be nearby. _No! Merlin had left him!_ Why would Merlin do that? Merlin had never left him before. He had done- something, he was too tired to remember. _Still he should call Merlin, he needed help._

"Merlin!" He had intended the name to be a shout, a summoning, but it came out as nothing more than a rasping muted whisper.

What about Guinevere? Guinevere loved him, but she was gone too, wasn't she? Yes he had sent her away. Why had he done that? He let her think he didn't love her any longer. His strength began to ebb again. The buzzing started again and he knew it was flies drawn by the mess in his trousers and his inert state.

If Merlin did not come, he was going to die here, baked in his own armor, and Guinevere would not know that he had never stopped loving her.

* * *

><p>"So this time," Aikat looked very seriously at her little brother. "You have to peak in the windows."<p>

"Easy peasy," Drystan replied and she suspected it was all bravado. "If I peak in the window, you have to rattle her door."

Aikaterine paused, poking her full lips out as she considered this challenge.

"Deal, I'm not afraid of Morgana." She let her hand rest on the hilt of the sword her father had given her for her fifteenth birthday.

Morgana was always doing interesting things. Weird smells, puffs of odd colored smoke, and explosions escaped from her house regularly. Strange people came and went and it gave the two children a laugh to rattle the witch. She came outside face red with anger, shouting about how important she was, and trying to use magic to reveal her harassers. It never worked of course, their parent's magic matched Morgana's with ease. They crossed out of the trees and started down the grass covered slope into the valley.

The two children wore the colors of the forest brown and green out of simple homespun serge, dark pants and tunics that would disappear on the forest floor. Aikat had the indulgence of a green sleeveless linen jerkin that she had embroidered herself with flowers and leaves in varying shades of green and deep blue.

"Do you suppose that old wizard will come back?" Seven year-old Drystan asked eyes wide.

"I dunno."

They had mixed feelings about the wizard. Spying on Morgana they had watched an old man come to her house. Morgana having visitors was nothing unusual, but then they had started a magic duel. They'd watched the old man beat their cousin and wondered at that. When he left her lying unconscious on the ground they had considered going to her. At least getting her into the house, but before they could decide the Nobleman had come and taken care of her.

Their father had warned them to stay away from Morgana and be wary of her; she had done many terrible things. Not because she was a witch, but because she had been corrupted by Uther Pendragon. They had also overheard their parents talking about Morgana and learned that she was their father's niece and so their cousin. Family was supposed to stick together. That was what their mom always said.

Once they had hidden in a thicket and Morgana had looked right at them without seeing them. Aikat had nearly given the entire thing away by gasping when she'd seen the witch's eyes, a startling green near identical to the eyes she shared with her father. Morgana was her father's niece so of course they would look similar in some ways. They hadn't much else in common in their looks. Aikat was blonde where Morgana was dark and at fifteen she had the height of some grown men. Still the similarity had only fueled her curiosity, she'd always wanted cousins.

The afternoon sun was already making its way west. They wouldn't have too much more time before they would need to be home for supper.

The witch's home was a cellar, the only thing that remained of an old mansio or so their father said. They came to the rooftop chicken coop first. Once they had loosed Morgana's chickens and watched from the trees as she chased the hens about the valley cursing with rage while feathers puffed around her. After that she started setting out a saucer of milk for Brownies and they decided no more pranks, for at least a little while. When they arrived that afternoon the coop was empty.

They saw no chickens, eggs, or even feathers, just fading stains of bird droppings.

"I wonder what happened to the chickens," Drystan asked small fingers closing round the bird wire.

Aikaterine shrugged.

"Perhaps she had a feast," the girl said.

"With who?" Drystan asked.

"The noble men that come here. That bald one is really handsome," Aikat smiled.

Drystan made a face.

"No mushy talk."

"Why not, it's how you got here, stupid."

"I'm not stupid!" Drystan frowned up at her.

"Shhh, or she'll hear us."

The children stood a while on the roof waiting to see if their presence had been noticed. When no shouting or swearing came they climbed off the roof to the valley floor, taking care to avoid the windows. Aikaterine went to the door as she had planned and gasped it hung open and- the girl wrinkled her face.

"Yuck! Something stinks." Drystan declared.

"Yeah, but come look, Morgana's house is empty." She covered her nose with one pale hand and motioned her little brother over with the other.

They peaked round the open door and saw that the place was empty of everything, but the furniture and cabinetry.

"Where do you suppose she went?" He looked up at her, his sun browned face framed by messy dark hair.

"Maybe with the Nobleman, or the Handsome Guy."

"Or maybe she is attacking Camelot again. Stupid grubs! We missed everything good. What happened?" Drystan kicked the door.

The vegetable garden that supplied most of the family's food had become infested with vermin. They'd spent the last ten days clearing it out and neither had been able to come to Morgana's house for nearly half a month. Just then the wind blew and both children frowned as a puff of the stink that lingered about the place hit them in the face.

"Ugh!" Aikat waved her hand in front of her face as she looked around trying to determine the source of the odor.

"Look," Drystan pointed at something partially hidden on the valley floor just a few yards from Morgana's door. "It's a body!" He said with wide excited eyes.

Aikat ran to the body her brother had spotted and crouched. The body lay on its stomach, face turned away from her, short blonde hair littered with twigs and leaves. In spite of her brother's insistence that this was a body she thought she saw the gentle rise and fall of someone breathing. He smelled awful, but Aiket attributed that to the mess in his breeches baking in the warmth of the afternoon sun. He wore armor and she thought it had to be roasting him if he'd lain long in this sun.

"He is not dead Drystan stop being dramatic," Aikat said.

Drystan frowned and pinched his nose.

"He sure smells like it."

She looked up at her brother with a sigh.

"Have you ever smelled a body?"

He shook his head.

"Okay, this is not what they smell like," Aikat said her tone firm. "Now I'm going to turn him over."

She reached out to flip him and pulled her hands back. The metal was burning hot to the touch. She considered a moment, her arms were bare and she wore only her jerkin and sleeveless linen tunic underneath. The stranger groaned and Aikat quickly undid her sword belt. She padded her hands with jerkin and flipped the stranger onto his back. The stranger cried out and Aikat winced murmuring an apology at causing him pain. After a moment he seemed to settle and she felt her eyebrows jump into her hairline.

"Does he look like dad to you?"

"You mean like your ugly face?"

Drystan laughed at his own joke and Aikat rolled her eyes.

"Be serious, Drystan," she said. "He's not dead at least."

"Well he still stinks." The boy pinched his nose, and walked towards Morgana's open door. After pausing for all of a moment he went into the witch's house.

Ignoring her little brother Aikaterine did as father had taught her.

"Sir Knight?" Plate Armor and mail were the usual signs of knighthood. Their parents had taught them to be wary of knights, but knights meant battles and quest.

"Sir knight can you hear me?"

She watched his face and smiled when his eyelids fluttered without opening. He could hear them at least.

"Sir Knight," she tucked a strand of blonde that had come loose from her waist length braid behind on ear. "Can you speak?

The knight groaned and muttered something unintelligible before falling silent. A foreigner? _This was exciting!_

"I am going to look for injuries and then we are going to take care of you."

She didn't have her father's gift for healing, nor the patience for the magical arts. Aikat was, as her father had called her when he gifted her with sword at fifteen, a battle maid and true daughter of Athena. Though it seemed high praise she had not missed the flicker of sadness in his eyes when he said it. Still she had learned enough of the medical arts from her parents to tend battlefield injuries until a physician might be found.

She exercised those skills now. Checking the stranger for any wounds or signs of infection and sat back on her heels baffled when she found nothing. She studied him a moment, his face was gaunt, skin flushed red with heat, his lips cracked and dry as if he'd gone days without water, the underside of his eyes were smudged blue-black and in spite of the gauntness of his face held a bloated look.

She looked at her younger brother. The boy waved his arms about casting a mock spell. He looked like such a blend of both their parents that you could identify neither of them in his face.

"Drystan," Aikat called her brother! "Drystan come here."

She returned her attention to the knight. Something was very wrong with him. They could not leave him here. Still if he were a knight of Camelot-

"Aikat!" Drystan came running out of the house. "I think that he is a knight."

"You just figured that out?" Aikat studied her brother expression critical.

"Well I never saw a knight before."

"Well that's not important anyway. This man needs our help," she explained. "Run home and tell mom we've found a sick knight." She saw Drystan's eyes widen.

"Bu- but what if he is from Camelot? Mom and dad and Ismene are all witches. What if-"

"We don't know that he is from Camelot," Aikat said her tone gentle. "And even if he is, one sick knight is no danger to us."

The boy scrunched up his face, frowning.

"But Aikat, mom and dad said to be wary of Camelot knights."

"They also said we should help those in need, even our enemies, just like the Lord Christ, and we don't know that he is an enemy. Now go home and get mom."

"What are you gonna do?"

"Stay here with him."

"By yourself! At Morgana's house? With him?" Drystan's dark eyes went wide. Aikat swallowed, perhaps she felt a little frightened.

He frowned and opened his mouth to argue.

"I have my sword, Morgana is gone, and this man is ill."

"We should both go back for help."

"No." She said it with the firm voice her father had told her was the voice of command. "He is sick, it's not right to leave him alone. So go." She gave her brother a gentle shove toward home. "Go."

"All right. I'll hurry!" The boy took a few steps backwards and then turned to run, glancing over his shoulder until he was out of the valley.

The knight recalled her attention with a moan and began to babble again. Aikat thought he must be in some pain, perhaps if she got him out of the heat. Keeping the jerkin as cushion between her hands and the heat of the metal, Aikat got her hands under his shoulders and pulled. She was strong, but his was a dead weight. By the time she'd drug him from the sun to the shade of a great oak, the teen was sweating from the exertion. She pillowed her jerkin under his head and retrieved her sword.

Aikat studied the stranger. He looked rather a lot like their father and by extension she supposed they looked equally similar. Same cheekbones, same mouth, same jaws though hers was feminine, and the same blonde hair. Unlike her father, Aikat had green eyes and her mother's wider nose. She wondered what color the stranger's eyes were. If he were another cousin that would be nice, she'd always wanted more cousins.

Her eyes went over his mail again. What if he was a knight of Camelot. Would he be unfriendly to magic users? Very gently Aikat slipped his sword out of his sheath. She tested the weight of the blade, it was heavier than her own, but not more than she could handle. With a sigh she laid the blade on the grass in front of her and settled in to wait. Their parents would decide what to do.

* * *

><p>Rhosyn brushed a few stray splinters of wood out of the rune. Oak was good material for runes. Today was a good day for considering runes and quiet contemplation. Her husband Ambrosius had trekked down to the nearby village to trade furs and gather gossip. Her two noisiest children were out playing. Her middle daughter,Ismene -bless her quiet soul- was somewhere reading. Nerys her eight month old daughter cooed in her sleep and snuggled against her midsection.<p>

The woman sat at a round rough finished of dark wood table of near a hearth, candles augmenting the light of the afternoon sun. Her hair fell down her back in long loose chestnut waves sprinkled throughout with strands of gray. Outside of the candle light and the sun's rays the room was dark around her, the plaster walls dressed in dancing shadows, the dimness of early evening hiding old stains on the stone floor.

Rhosyn set the last of the runes into a woven basket with the others. Runes were essential for the casting of certain spells and a good tool for fortune reading, but they didn't last forever. She put the basket under the table and brushed shavings of wood from the skirt of her blue-green dress. Her children would be home soon. They'd have a cold supper tonight, it was too hot and peaceful a day to cook anymore than she had too. There was some roast duck in the cellar and day old bread that they could dress up with preserves and butter. She'd have to cook them some peas, turnips and carrots to go with the meal. They'd have some raw fruit for dessert with cinnamon for dessert, only fools scorned it.

Rhosyn leaned back in her chair putting her bare white feet up on the wooden table in front of her, determined to have the most of her quiet afternoon. Nerys stirred and pushed up on her arms with a smile.

"Hi baby," Rhosyn smiled back. The girl had Ambrosius's green eyes with dark hair. Nerys babbbled at her in a language only she knew and then reached into the neck of her dress and drew forth a pale breast. The girl latched onto the nipple and Rhosyn stroked her daughter's back.

When she had first begun nursing Aikat it had hurt so and there had been no women to share nursing duties or even to offer wisdom and advice. Ambroisus' knowledge had seen her safe through pregnancy and delivery, but his helpfulness ended there. After that first month of motherhood she had been prepared to swear off all martial congress whatsoever. Ambrosius had found and brought a midwife to coach, and she'd learn better ways to nurse her first child.

Rhosyn snuggled her daughter closer and let her eyes drift shut; closing out the plaster walls and thatched roof. Much had changed for them since Aikat's birth. She was no longer slender girl of seventeen, frightened of King Uther and his war against 'd built a home out of the hill fort, a safe place. She hoped that they could maintain it through all the upheaval in Camelot.

"Mom-" Drystan burst into the parlour with that a word, gasped and took a breath. "We found a body." He stood panting one hand resting on his thin chest as he gulped air, trying to catch his breath.

"A body?" Rhosyn looked up with a frown.

"Yes!" He replied.

She studied her only surviving son's face a moment. The boy's skin was a sun-warmed brown from all the time he spent outside, his hair which had been neat and well groomed this morning was now a tousled mess and he was so covered with twigs and bramble that he looked as if he'd run home without a care for what lay in his path.

"Where is your sister?" Rhosyn asked wondering at the absence of her eldest child.

"With the body!"

"What? Drystan are you trying to trick your mother?"

"No, the boy shook his head, "but he's not really a body even though he looks and smells bad. Aikat says he is sick and needs help and," the boy paused and swallowed, "he is really a knight."

Rhosyn sighed and got to her feet holding Nerys close. "Where is this knight?"

Drystan poked out his lips and twisted his fingers rather than reply and Rhosyn knew she wouldn't like the answer.

"Drystan."

The boy mumbled something in the direction of his feet.

"Speak up," she lifted his chin and met her son's eyes determined to get an answer out of him.

"In front of Morgana's house," he grimaced in preparation for her anger.

"What were you children doing by Morgana's house?" She raised a hand forestalling his answer. "Never mind, you can be in trouble later. Go tell your sister Ismene to take a break from reading and get the cart ready while I gather my medical supplies." She placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him from running off.

"Then get me two cushions, fill three water skins and get me two blankets."

"Okay," he started to run off in search of his sister and she stopped him again.

"One more thing was this knight wearing a golden dragon badge?"

"I didn't see one."

Rhosyn sighed. "All right, off you go."

Drystan ran off to find his sister while Rhosyn gathered her medical supplies, so much for her peaceful afternoon.

* * *

><p>Merlin crossed the tree line and stepped from the warm bright afternoon into the dim light of the forest. Out of sight of Arthur he stopped to catch his breath. He'd seen hate before, and he'd seen it moments ago in Arthur's eyes. He still did not fully understand the change in Arthur. Understand how the other had gone from thoughtful to enraged in the course of one evening.<p>

_"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't execute you here and now?"_

Panic had surged in him and that metallic taste of adrenaline had coated his tongue. In desperation he had wished himself away and he had been, away. Not far, but the adrenaline had shot him up the hill, dissipating only when he was safe behind a screen of trees. He looked back towards the valley floor, and found it hidden from his vantage point. What was he going to do now? Arthur hated him. Merlin sank to the forest floor and leaned his back against the trunk of a tree.

Leaning against the tree, his strength melted out of him as if the soil somehow leached it away. Gwen was dead, Arthur hated him, and the things he'd said to Gaius. With such speed his life, always tense, was now a ruin. Exhaustion crept upon him and his head drooped forward. Merlin slept.

He woke feeling no happier than he had when he'd fallen asleep.

He considered and dismissed the idea of going back to the valley. Morgana was gone and if Arthur were still there who knew what the other man would do. He decided to make for the horses. He'd keep to the trees and well out of sight. If Arthur were there…well he'd just keep out of sight.

Merlin stared and felt the first stirrings of anger. Their horses and supplies were gone. Arthur had abandoned him in the woods. Yes, the king had reason to be angry, to want nothing to do with him, but to leave him stranded, without supplies.

"Very well." Merlin felt his blood run hot and then cold. He'd walk back to Camelot, slip into the city, say good-bye to Gaius and take his leave. If Arthur chose to scorn magic let him see how well he did without it.

With each step Merlin recalled a thousand indignities and his anger grew. He thought of all the humiliations and all the unacknowledged services he'd done for the Arthur. All the times he'd saved his life, all the times he'd protected Uther simply for Arthur's sake, all the late nights scrubbing Arthur's laundry or polishing his armor or rising with the sun to get his breakfast. Arthur had spat upon all of that, turned his back as if it had no meaning, were valued at nothing.

The logical part of him whispered that Arthur did not know of these things. That Arthur had learnt of his magic not in a moment of triumph, but failure. How could he expect the other man to value that? But the king did know of other times that Merlin had saved his life. More than once Arthur had seen it for himself and still this was his choice. The king would never respect him. This of all things proved it. And while he had once contented himself with being a secret savior, Merlin knew that would no longer be enough. The wizard turned and started toward the road.

The road was one of the old roman roads, gravel paving under blocks of stone. Like Uther, Arthur diverted taxes to its maintenance. Unlike Uther he wanted to add more such roads. With solid roads information and goods could move with ease from one part of Camelot to another. Messages about bandits could reach garrisons with ease and speed, food stores could be moved to areas of famine, and citizens could more easily communicate with loved ones.

It was difficult to find the money for such projects though. Disasters, incursions by Morgana, public campaigns like the war on magic siphoned funds from infrastructure, forcing repeated delays on projects.

Still there was this road, one long dark line of from east to west, connecting the citadel and villages, and making rivers accessible. Merlin took to it now. Along the road he would travel much faster, he could if he wished even travel into the night and reach the city by some time in the late afternoon of the next day. Merlin lengthened his stride eager to be done with Camelot.

Here and there the sunlight broke through the trees, flowering shrubs and bushes grew along the roadside, the afternoon under the forest canopy the afternoon was neither hot nor cool. Without the continuous waiting on Arthur, worrying about Arthur, or thinking of how he must hide his magic, Merlin found himself enjoying the walk.

A chickadee sang and he hummed along enjoying the cheerful song- he felt it, a prickling of the hairs on the back of his neck and tingling down the length of his long spine. Merlin whipped around certain that he'd see a figure on the road behind him, Arthur perhaps. The wizard sighed when he saw nothing and started walking again, studying the length of the shadows as he went. It was drawing near to evening, he'd made good time. By this time tomorrow he'd be in Camelot.

He'd apologize to Gaius before taking his leave; the old man deserved that much from him. Then he'd find Gwen and take care of her body, from there home to Ealdor. He didn't see his mother enough, and she was all too often alone.

He was more mature now, had better control of his magic, more experience. He could be a help to his mother and a help to the village that raised him. Yes that was-

-Merlin tensed and felt that tingling down the back of his neck again and then he heard a great, deafening roar from the trees. He swallowed and looked to his right.

You could draw a straight line between he and it, a furry brown shape sitting in the woods mouth open to reveal a jaw full of sharp teeth. The beast turned and looked at him. Merlin jumped, instinctive panic seized him and he ran.

The animal- and Merlin was starting to think that it was a bear- ran too, lumbering along on all fours. He heard twigs snapping beneath its feet, as well as the steady rhythmic thud of it's paws striking the earth. Merlin ran on, striving to keep away from the bear. At any moment it might emerge from the woods to tackle him, and drag him away to his den for a delicious meal.

But the creature didn't do any of that. Merlin's panic began to recede. His pace slowed to a stop. He stood bent in half, hands resting on knees, breathing hard. The bear stopped too. His curiosity began to stir. Merlin straightened and took a step toward the bear. It stood and took a step backward. He took another step forward, the bear took a step back. This went on until Merlin found himself standing in the woods, several yards from the road. The bear was the exact same distance from him as when he'd taken that first step, perhaps even the same distance as when he'd first sighted the beast. The last dregs of his fear fell away and Merlin let himself drop to the forest floor still weary from his earlier sent and the hard work of recent days.

He lay back in the grass and stared up at the pockets of bright blue sky visible through the forest canopy.

"You can't eat me," he said to the beast with a shaky voice. No roar came, no response, nor had he expected one. The bear sat back on his haunches, with none of the tenseness of a beast waiting to spring.

Merlin lay in the grass, glancing time and again toward the bear and always the beast sat in the shade of a tree in the same relaxed stance. When the weariness from his sprint had passed, the wizard got to his feet and looked around. The bear had gone.

It occurred to him then that the animal had been playing with him. They did that sometimes, animals. He shook his head feeling a bit foolish for his initial panic. His magic would defend him easily enough. Merlin surveyed the shadows again, they'd grown long. He started back to the road there were perhaps two hours of light left for travel.

* * *

><p><em>"-Your ugly face-" "-Morgana's house!" "I have my sword."<em>

He heard those words and then nothing, but the familiar sounds of the forest. Then something cool and damp was pressed to his lips and he sucked water gratefully.

_"-he stinks!"_ The child's voice, he'd heard it before. He heard the words in bits and pieces, distracted at times by his own pain,discomfort and weariness.

He moved or rather he was moved and the dull pain in his head roared, a fiery beam that blotted out everything else.

The pain lessened and he heard voices.

_"Has he said anything?"_ It was adult feminine and Arthur felt curious enough to consider opening his eyes.

_"No, but he had some pain when I moved him to the shade."_ He recognized the voice of the girl from earlier, Aikat was what the other child called her?

_"Where is your pain,"_ the newcomer asked.

He answered or thought he answered, but the question was repeated.

_"His words-"_

_"-I know-"_ again the adult spoke and her tone was grim. _"__Try again to tell me where your pain is Sir Knight."_

When he tried to answer the second time Arthur heard the words he babbled with great clarity. He opened his eyes. Had they heard him as he heard himself? The sun was no longer a burning torch, but something else was wrong. Instead of faces peering down at him he saw only pale head shaped blobs surrounded by masses of light or dark that must be hair. He shivered, there was something disturbing about the blobs and he closed his eyes rather than look at them.

"I want you to drink this Sir Knight. It will help with the pain." The woman gave that command.

Someone eased his head up and he accepted the bitter liquid that poured down his throat.

_"Level and smooth Aikat."_

_"Yes mother."_

_Mother?_ There was someone's mother here?

_"Keep his head steady Drystan."_

There were hands on his ankles, hooked in his armpits, and under his head. They were going to move him, he would have complained if he'd had the strength.

_"1."_

_"2."_

_"3."_

Arthur cried out again, and heard murmurs of sorry all round. They were moving him and Drystan was failing to keep his head level and smooth.

When the pain lessened he smelled hay and pine and something soft was pillowed under his head. Someone bathed his forehead, head, and neck with cool water; Arthur dared to open his eyes.

Again he saw another blob surrounded by a dark halo.

"I'm sorry, but we can't wait." The blob turned away from him. "Go Aikat."

Arthur felt the lurch of the cart and the pain that had been with him stabbed into his skull with the heat of molten hot metal or a sword fresh from the forge. Whatever the woman had given him it did not help. Then there was a jostle, and another lurch and a thud, and each brought it's own fresh wave agony to be added to the last until he was whimpering and crying and clinging to the strange woman for any comfort he might receive from simple human touch. And even still it just kept going until the agony in his head was the only thing that he knew.

When the agony did at long last recede, the first thing he saw was the color of the sky. And there was a bed and bedding and the mess in his breeches was gone. All around him were the clean smells of sweet basil, myrtle, rose and soothing fragrant, lavender. Everything around him was clean and soft and comfort. He remembered perhaps a cool hand on his forehead and another strange voice, a male one saying the word peace, perhaps? He couldn't be certain. And it didn't matter because he was so tired and the scent of lavender brought Guinevere to his mind's eye. Her warm brown face worried and desperate.

_"Live for me Arthur Pendragon."_

And then he slept and knew no more.

* * *

><p>Merlin surveyed his camp with a satisfied smile. Setting up for just himself had taken almost no time, use of his magic had sped the process along. He had a bed of grass and pine, a cozy fire, and two roasted squirrels for his dinner. He'd used his magic to trap the last and now as the squirrel finished up cooking he set a circle of protection round his camp.<p>

No keeping watching, no waking at every suspicious sound, and no pacing the perimeter of his camp. His magic would protect him like it should have always protected him. He set the last piece of fieldstone in place, muttered the last syllable of the incantment and felt:

_nothing._

The wizard sat back on his heels with a frown. A spell or incantation was a gathering of power, on the completion there was a clicking, like a lock opening and a feeling he could only describe as blossoming; of course though sometimes nothing happened at all. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes going over the protection incantation in his mind. It was the end of a long day, even a simple spell could be difficult when one was tired.

Merlin started again, pronouncing each syllable with care, and tapping out the spell's rhythm on his knee. He felt the slow gathering of power and spoke his words with confidence, the picture of a shimmering circle round the camp held firm in his mind. He opened his eyes on the last word, placing the fieldstone as he said it, and felt that inner click as the lock opened and the magic began to blossom taking shape. He saw a shimmer of pale violet light make a circle round his camp just as he willed. For one moment the violet light beamed and then disappeared. The spell was complete.

The wizard grinned with satisfaction and took up his meal. He'd rest without worry tonight.

Merlin woke to a morning silvery-gray and well advanced. He swore. Without the warmth and light of the sun he'd slept late. He dispelled the protections around his camp and went to a nearby stream to drink. He didn't bother with breakfast. He would eat when his things were gathered and his fare-thee wells given.

* * *

><p>"Damn that woman and that slimy bastard Agravaine. I knew he meant no good when he showed up court! King Uther sent him away and Arthur had no knowledge of it." Lord Troy planted his sword point first in the turf. A warm, fat drop of rain splashed onto Merlin's cheek and he ground his teeth in consternation as he studied nobleman.<p>

Lord Troy wore a linen tunic and trousers both in deep blue with a jerkin also made of indigo blue linen and embroidered with threads of silver, green and gold, not the kind of thing one wore for traipsing about the woods. His dark hair brown was wild and around his head and littered with twigs and leaves. He looked at the nobleman again; taking in his pale dirt smudged face and rumpled looked as if he'd slept in the woods, on the ground no less.

_What was Lord Troy, of all people doing out in the woods, swearing?_ More of a concern though was that he did it in Merlin's path, standing between the wizard and the bridge he wanted to cross. Merlin sighed. He'd heard Lord Troy's swearing as he came round a bend in the road and ducked into the trees. He did not wish to reveal himself to Lord Troy.

Merlin weighed his options, he could wait for Lord Troy to move on, back track and cross the river elsewhere or deal with the nobleman. Since he'd left with Arthur, Lord Troy would in all likelihood be expecting to see him with the king. That would mean delays and questions.

Merlin fixed his gaze on Lord Troy's back and began reciting a sleep spell under his breath. He felt the magic click and blossom just as he'd expected. Lord Troy tensed -Merlin saw it in every line of his frame- turned and looked square at his hiding spot just in time for the wizard to see Troy's amber broach glow and fade. The man had _magic_ or at least a broach with magic; surely it had absorbed the power of the spell.

The nobleman pulled his sword from the turf and pointed it in Merlin's direction.

"Show yourself!"

Merlin considered. He did not care for Lord Troy, had never really cared for Lord Troy, even before the nobleman had tried to have Gwaine and Elyan's knighthood taken from them. He'd always dismissed the man as Lord Payton's lackey. Merlin wondered if Lord Payton knew Lord Troy was a magic user?

A few more drops of rain fell and Merlin wondered for a moment if it was going to storm. A moment later a distant rumble of thunder gave an 's dark eyes narrowed and the frown on his long thin face deepened.

"I said come forward."

There was a steeliness in Lord Troy's voice that he'd never associated with the man. Merlin studied the gleaming sword point. Perhaps not a magic user, but someone sensitive to it, familiar and comfortable with it. Intrigued Merlin stepped forward.

"It is only Merlin," he said.

"You!" Lord Troy frowned, and lowered his sword point. "Where is the king?"

"He went back to Camelot."

"Camelot!" Troy's voice was incredulous. "When?"

"Yesterday morn-"

"-And he left you here?" Lord Troy lifted the sword again, "You'll have to do better than that traitor!"

"What?"

"Yesss, you-"

-He saw the nobleman's dark brown eyes widen and then something barreled into him from behind knocking him off his feet and into Lord Troy.

Both men tumbled down the slope a mass of flailing arms and legs, scrabbling for purchase on the hillside. By some miracle he had not been impaled on Lord Troy's sword. They splashed into the river and the current pulled them apart. Merlin had just enough time to take a deep breath before the water closed round him. He kicked his legs and surfaced with ease. Merlin looked around and saw the bear sitting up slope as if he were watching some great entertainment. He glared at the bear and heard Lord Troy splash to the surface a moment later face red with anger.

"Why am I involved in this?" The nobleman shouted in the direction of the bear.

Merlin frowned. Lord Troy was looking at the bear as if waiting for a reply.

The bear bellowed.

"Well yes, but he," Lord Troy looked at Merlin with a glare. "He is a clumsy idiot and _besides_, he _left_, the king!"

Water dripped off the end of the nobleman's long nose and his lips pressed into in thin line in his pale face. The bear waited before replying as if considering it's answer. Finally the bear bellowed again and then turned and walked toward the forest. Lord Troy snorted and swam toward the opposite bank. No little intrigued by the bizarre exchange Merlin swam after him. Troy reached the bank first, pulling himself up to stand on the grass while glaring down at him dark hair slicked to his skull, fine clothes soaked and clinging.

"I suppose we are going to travel together," Lord Troy said as Merlin climbed onto the grassy riverbank.

"We are?"

"Oh yes," Lord Troy pointed his chin in the bear's direction. "Your friend with the torn ear insist."

"Not my friend. You're the one who spoke to it."

Lord Troy snorted and glared. The rain began to fall faster now though he took little note of it in his soaked state. The sky brightened for a moment and both men looked to the north to catch a flash of lightning. The earth shook a moment later as thunder boomed overhead.

"We need shelter," Lord Troy said.

The wind grew stronger hissing through the leaves of the trees with the sound of the sea. The nobleman started up the riverbank. Merlin looked back across the bridge toward the opposite bank. The bear was cloud cover had thickened and it was too dark to see into the trees on the other side of the river now.

Merlin had never had an experience with Lord Troy that would make him think he wanted to travel with him. But then, perhaps, in truth he did not know anything about Lord Troy. The man had some protection against magic and he would not have guessed that. He talked to bears as if they were humans.

The rainfall began to mingle with the river water running out of his hair to blur his vision. He did not want to travel with anyone, but if the nobleman knew where shelter might be found perhaps he should at least follow him. Besides if Lord Troy were a magic user or knew something about magic then it might important to keep an eye him. Merlin frowned, he wasn't concerning himself with Camelot or it's politics anymore. Still there was no need for him to get wet.

"Well come on."

Merlin squinted up at Lord Troy through rain soaked lashes. The nobleman stood at the edge of the forest now, dark garments black with water. It couldn't have been much past midday, but the cloud cover made the forest look night-dark. He looked toward the dark line of the road, now soaked and gleaming with rainwater, but cutting through the forest, a path he'd chosen for himself. A path just a few feet away.

He slicked his soaked hair back from his face and wiped the water from his eyes. There was another flashing crackle of lightning, followed by thunder. It would be dangerous to travel during a storm. Soaked garments clinging to him Merlin leaned into the steep incline of the riverbank and started upslope after Lord Troy and into the darkness of the forest.

* * *

><p>AN- So I am finally back.

I want to thank you all so much for continuing to read The Exile and hanging in there with me through all my delays and inconsistencies. Those of you who follow my tumblr know that I moved cross-country in mid-february and then that microsoft security update that they released at the beginning of April broke my computer twice. Anyway things are settling into some sort of routine finally. I have a little chromebook to work on and I am not having to run out on errands every day. Hopefully there won't be any more month long delays between updates. Thanks again for hanging in there, thanks for all you patience and comments. I do most of this writing for you guys.


	25. The Exile, Chapter 25: Unseemly Women

**Previously in The Exile**

_To Ms. Jenafere of Alfonsa's Boarding House_

_Having inquired after your character I have received glowing responses from several mutual acquaintances and should like to speak with myself to determine if you would be suitably for employment at his hospice. I should like to offer you consideration for the physician's assistant position. If this is still your desire as well you are scheduled to meet with me ten days hence at the hour of ten._

_If this position is no longer to your liking or some previous appointment makes the interview impossible please send word right away so that other arrangements might be made. Otherwise I shall meet with you_ then..._**Chapter XIX**_**_  
><em>**

* * *

><p><strong>The Exile<strong>

**-Part II, Guinevere Called Jenafere-**

**Chapter XXV: Unseemly Women**

* * *

><p>Gwen's eyes traced the gleaming golden wood paneling of the parlor walls, there was a rabbit head in the random set of squiggles and wood veins. Medical papers and logs were scattered about her on the parlor floor, the little table they used for games, and along the padded oak bench where she sat. She'd spent the better part of the last four days studying. She didn't know what Physician Pradeep would ask her, but she wished to be as prepared as possible. She knew the common herbs, their uses and identifying features and potential dangers as well the common illnesses, infections, their symptoms and treatments.<p>

The evening breeze stirred the curtains and again her attention drifted with salt tang of the air. A walk might be nice, but she needed to study.

She had absorbed everything Ylsa explained to her about humors, infections and cleanliness. What Gwen didn't understand was the unseen miasma of potential illness that hung over everything. Ylsa insisted that it was there and Ylsa's patients almost never developed infections. So the mid-wife must be right.

Sometimes Gwen wished that she could see it, others times it sounded like something that existed in nightmares, a fog thick and murky full of unseen things waiting for their chance. Guinevere shivered at her thoughts and glanced out the window.

Ylsa and Ms. Alfonsa took turns sitting with her, talking with her about the practice at the infirmary as well as telling her what Physician Pradeep was like. She felt perhaps she might have some advantage. The hospice was for poor and working folk, folk like herself. She understood them in a way that most physicians would not. She would treat them with respect, they would trust her and that would make her better able to treat them. Surely, this was an asset. As for Physician Pradeep…well Ms. Alfonsa and Ylsa had both told her not to let him intimidate her, as he was certain to try. Lord Agravaine had tried to intimidate her too-had intimidated her actually-but she had found her voice with him, and she would do so with Physician Pradeep.

There had been no more dreams of Arthur in peril and she hoped that that was for the good. Hoped that she had dreamt of a dire moment that now passed and not his death. Worry for him was still with her, though not as strong since she'd left her letter with the Scribner. She'd checked daily and so far no one had come to carry a letter to Camelot. News could not come soon enough.

Gwen studied a drawing of several different types of Willow whose bark was used to ease the pain of headache or menstrual cramps. Every physician knew how to recognize these.

_"Ms. Jennnn!"_

Guinevere looked up from the drawing at the sound of that boyish shout. as running feet came pounding down the hall. A moment later the parlor door burst open.

"Hi, Ms. Jen," Esobal stood in the doorway grinning and wearing a formal length, summer weight tunic in blue with green and yellow embroidery. "Mom said we were coming to see you and you were studying hard for a position, so I brought you a rabbit's foot from the market."

The boy held out the rabbit's foot to her and Gwen took it with a sigh.

"Thank you, Esobal." She smiled at the boy's earnestness in spite of herself.

"You're welcome, Ms. Jen. It's better than a frog isn't it?" He nodded grinning.

"Yes it is."

"Esobal," Ambry appeared in the doorway wearing a gown as blue as the summer sky, "Don't disturb Ms. Jen."

"Mom's gonna 'sturb her anyway," Esobal explained turning to face his sister. "She wants Ms. Jen to come with us to the coliseum." He turned back to her. "Are you gonna come with us to the coliseum, Ms. Jen? It'll be fun. We're going to Lysis-" He frowned. "Lysisississ- strata. We're going to see 'Strata," he finished with a firm nod.

Gwen tousled the boy's hair with a smile.

"Lysistrata, dummy," Ambry said and sat down on one of the stools.

"Ambry," Gwen admonished the girl for calling her brother names.

"Sorry."

"Where did you place in the calligraphy contest?" Gwen asked.

"Third," Ambry said brightly.

"Well done. I would like to see it."

"Would you? The next time you come for dinner I can show it to you." Ambry smiled.

"Hi, Jen, how is the studying going?" Ylsa asked walking into the parlor, Adras just behind her.

"Well I suppose."

Ylsa began picking up the logs and stacking them neatly.

"Hi, mom," Esobal ran to his mother and threw his arms around her hips. "I asked Ms. Jen if she would come with us, but she didn't say."

"So you've beaten me to the punch."

"Hmm?"

Adras smiled down at the boy and ruffled his hair before looking up at them, a faint smile playing about the corners of her mouth.

"Well, Ms. Jen, will you accompany us to the coliseum?"

Adras was also dressed in blue and Guinevere had a sudden desire to see them together for a family portrait. That woman, Isobelle, whom Adras had called wife, had worn blue in her portrait. Perhaps that was why Adras chose it now.

"Will you?" Esobal looked at her expectantly.

"I don't know...I have this interview tomorrow."

"And you're such a serious and focused young woman, I imagine you've been studying everyday since you learnt of it, and are more than prepared." Adras smiled. "In fact, I suspect an evening out would put you in just the right mood for the interview."

Gwen hesitated. She'd read Lysistrata more times than she could count. It was one of her favorite plays and they'd often acted out scenes on long winter nights. She looked at the family's lovely formal wear.

"I don't have anything appropriate really to wear."

"You can borrow something of mine," Ylsa volunteered."You should really see the coliseum, Jen, and Adras gets the best seats."

"Tonight we have private seats, actually, and dinner is included."

Adras looked pleased with herself, and Gwen sighed.

"Well I suppose I had just better go then," she said in capitulation.

"That's probably best," Adras nodded and looked altogether too pleased with herself.

"You two came in together?" Gwen asked just a little curious.

"I have a mother in Adras' neighborhood; she was kind enough to bring me home in the cart."

"Oh."

"Let's go find something to wear."

"You're going, too?"

"Nope, I have a gentlemen caller this evening. Tonight is gentlemen's night at The Aphrodite, and since I know the owner, I get the best treatment, so my gentlemen and I are going." Ylsa flashed a smile at Adras.

"You own a gaming house?" Gwen asked.

"Actually it's a lady's gaming house, spa and salon. However, once a month our guests are allowed to bring their gentlemen."

"Oh." Gwen felt more than a little curious. This gaming house of Adras' seemed like it might be a bit like being at Ms. Alfonsa's, only with expensive food and games.

"You'll have to come by one evening. But now, go get changed."

Ylsa loaned Gwen a bright pink gown that brought a warm, flushed look to her cheeks and they dressed her hair with ribbons and dried flowers. Gwen in turn helped Ylsa into a sun-colored dress that gleamed against her skin and then helped her sculpt her cloud-like mane until it framed her face like a crown.

"The two of you are a vision," Adras said with a smile when they returned to the parlor. "Ylsa, I can always send word to your gentleman friend that you've changed your mind and decided to accompany me to the coliseum. No one would blame you."

"Adras, you are a darling and you make a tempting offer. It would ,however, be a terribly rude and flighty thing to do to my friend." Ylsa fluttered her eyelashes at Adras, and Gwen blushed faintly at the open flirting between the two women.

"Oh, very well. Knowing that Jenafere has chosen to grace me with her company greatly soothes my troubled brow. Therefore, I shall submit to the demands of polite behavior." Adras extended her arm to Guinevere, who took it with a smile.

Esobal and Ambry came in just then, sharing a handful of sweets from the kitchen.

"Have a good evening, Ylsa. Thank you for the loan of the dress."

"You're welcome. Enjoy the coliseum."

"You look really pretty Ms. Jen," Esobal said.

"Thank you."

Theudeburt arrived just as Gwen was leaving with Adras and the children. He was a tall man with close cropped hair and skin as dark as Ylsa's. Gwen felt the faintest stirring of envy upon seeing him. But then she was confronted with Adras' cart and found herself hesitating.

She appreciated the cart, she did. It was convenient, but it wasn't like the open air carts nobles in Camelot used. In Camelot they had simple carts firmly attached to four wheels. This cart, Adras' cart, was a full, closed box of fancifully carved golden wood suspended between wheels, with chains. This would be her third time riding in it and she was confident Adras would never endanger her children. It didn't stop Gwen from having just a bit of fear about the vehicle.

"You're not thinking of changing you mind because the cart are you?" Adras leant down and whispered the question in her ear. "It's perfectly safe. I assure you."

"Of course it is," Gwen replied. "It just looks like its not."

Adras laughed and Gwen did allow the driver to help her into the cart. Ambry and Esobal sat on one of the padded benches lining the long wall of the cart, Gwen and Adras chose to sit opposite them. Leaving the shorter benches at the front and back empty. With a rattle of the suspension chains the cart gave a little lurch and started forward.

The noise of the cart didn't stop Adras and the children from talking about the play they were going to see. Warfare in particular and stopping it seemed an important topic to Adras.

"But, mom, you're a hero," Esobal protested. "And Uncle Gwaine is a knight."

Ambry smirked at this and kept her eyes on her little brother.

"I defended our home and the things we have built here from those who would take them by violence, but war ruins everything. It is how thoughtless, vile beings chose to solve problems."

Esobal looked at his mother and Gwen could see him trying to understand.

"It eats up lives and ruins businesses and leaves everyone miserable, even the supposed winners."

Esobal frowned. "The winners?"

"If you are a conquering force, then you have to hold the land and people you conquer under your control through violence and terror. You have to spend the lives of people and resources by killing and hurting other people. These are people and resources that could be put to other more productive work. You also live in fear that the people you have conquered will one day turn and kill you, which always happens sooner or later. If not to you then to your children, or grandchildren."

"Oh." The boy looked at her with a solemn face. "Why do people sing about war like it is good then?"

"Because people are stupid," Ambry said.

Adras sighed and smiled ruefully before nodding.

Everyone went silent then. Guinevere thought about all the witch hunts, the burnings, the torture. No one had ever thought of Uther as a conqueror; all agreed that the old government had to go. And they weren't going by any means other than violence. But then the war on magic had come. It happened just as Adras had described-a constant battle between magic users and non-magic users, and lives lived in fear. Guinevere sighed.

If she had been queen of Camelot in that moment she would have halted all persecution of magic users no matter the consequence.

"Something on your mind?" Adras asked.

"Nothing really. Just thinking about the truth of what you said. In war ,even the winners are losers."

Adras nodded.

"Excuse me, mom."

"Yes, Esobal?"

"Francesca's family is in the private seating as well. Can I visit her?"

"Yes, you can make a short visit just before dinner is served."

"Thanks, mom." Esobal grinned.

"Have you ever been to the coliseum Ms. Jen?" Ambry asked her.

"No." Gwen turned her attention to the girl.

"Then look." Ambry lifted one of the curtains and pointed out the window.

Gwen felt her eyes go wide. Camelot had nothing like this.

The coliseum stood three stories high, which was not impressive in and of itself. No, it was the arches, a parade of arches three stories high, lit up with torches, lanterns and bobbing lights that Gwen knew must be witch light. And there was the roar. The underlying murmur of so many humans acting and speaking filled the background and blotted out everything else. As they drew close, she saw that the Senate continued its trend of imitating the empire in all things. Statues of Mercury, Apollo, Jupiter and Minerva, the old gods of Rome, made their own circle around the coliseum. There were several statues she did not recognize, and Ambry explained that those were the patrons of the coliseum itself.

The cart came to a stop, and as the driver opened the door, a scent most fragrant and unexpected hit them, warm and heavy with the tantalizing smell of cooking food.

They alighted near an arch with two ushers and no line.

"It is for those that have private seats," Adras explained.

"Oh, I see. Special treatment?"

"Just a little, but life is so trying." Adras sighed and Guinevere laughed at that.

"Ms. Adras," an older usher with a pale balding head, a slight paunch and deathly solemn look about himself greeted them with a smile as they approached the podium. "I understand we have special seats for you tonight."

"That's right, Aderen."

"Well, they are the best seats in the house and you are sure to enjoy them." He was very serious as he spoke. "In fact, once you've had the pleasure of dinner and theater I guarantee you won't want any other experience."

The man reminded her almost instantly of George, and Gwen had to bite her lower lip to keep from laughing. There was pride in your work, and then there was, well, George.

"Miss, have you ever been to the coliseum?"

Guinevere shook her head.

"Then you are in for a real treat. Though, I am afraid you might be a bit spoilt having our private seats the first time out."

"I see."

"Ms. Jenafere, this is Aderen," said Adras, making introductions.

"Ahh, Ms. Jenafere, what a lovely name. You are in for a real treat."

The usher led them up one-and-a-half flights of stairs to a floor between the first and second balconies. They entered and followed him past three narrow, curtained doors. The usher stopped at the fourth.

Aderen lifted the curtain and the gentle glow of beeswax candle light poured into the hall. Curious, Gwen peaked round the edges of the door frame.

There was a square covered with a bright white linen table cloth and laid for four. The room's walls were made of clear gleaming glass, and Gwen wondered at that. Making large panes of clear, perfect glass was difficult at best. Magic perhaps. Esobal started forward and Adras stopped him.

"Ms. Jen is our guest."

"Sorry," the boy said. "You first Ms. Jen."

"Thank you, Esobal." she smiled down at the child and then flashed a smile to his mother. Gwen went to the seat furthest from the door and gasped as she looked out the window. The arena was a living mass of people, row upon row of them, nearly upon the stage itself.

"Can they see us?" she asked the usher as Ambry, Esobal, and Adras filed in.

"No, ma'am," the usher said with pride. "This coliseum is a marvel of engineering. Besides making use of all the best Roman techniques, we have employed magic-smiths to make these panes of glass clear and perfect as well as impossible to see through from the other side. This allows increased comfort and privacy for our most noble visitors." He looked at Adras with a smile.

"Oh," was all Gwen said and she thought she saw some disappointment in Aderen's expression. For the briefest moment she thought of Merlin's early days in Camelot, when they made fun of the nose-in-the-air nobles.

Ambry took the seat beside her and Esobal came along behind his big sister and pulled out her chair even as Adras did the same for Gwen.

"Thank you, Adras," Guinevere said as she was seated ,and Ambry did the same with Esobal. Esobal and Adras took their places and Aderen came forward then to take their dinner orders.

"Dinner will be served during intermission. The first course will is fruit, and it is a delightful and rare delicacy being served to our guest tonight. After that will be the soup course. Now for your main course, you have your choice of roasted young duck with a glaze of honey and spices from the far orient, venison medallions with a cranberry port, boar -and it was short hunt my friends-, the fragrance of it cooking was heavenly."

Gwen felt her ears prick at the offer of boar. Boar was a dangerous catch and even the proudest men were careful when hunting it. Appearance on even the king's table was rare, and scraps never made it to those that served it. If the hunting went well, it always had the most warm and fragrant smell. Anything cooked in its juices and fat had the richest flavor.

"And finally the day's catch, mussels cooked in the sweetest creamiest butter with a touch of garlic. All the meats will be served with shallots in wine, fresh warm bread, and cheese."

She ordered the boar, of course as did Esobal and Ambry. Adras requested the roast duck.

"Excellent choices. Now for your desserts. You have your choice of layered honey and nut cake with sweet butter cream frosting, or pear tartlets topped with a sweet and airy whipped cream-and I do recommend the tarts. I had the opportunity to taste them this evening ,and their crusts were perfectly light and buttery, and the pears this season are divine."

Everyone requested the pear tartlets and Aderen smiled. "You won't be disappointed." The usher left.

They settled themselves as the sun disappeared below the horizon plunging the arena into darkness. A great horn sounded and silence was called for. Lights came up around the stage, pale, glowing and golden, revealing Lysistrata's house. It was not as Gwen had imagined it when she and Morgana read the play. She had imagined for Lysistrata a yeoman's house like the magistrate's perhaps, with timber and plaster windows screened with glass panes.

What she saw now, though, had the look of a simple plaster building that seemed almost a mould, with windows covered with painted curtains, and small images of the old gods painted all round the windows and lintel of the door itself. Grass was round the base of the building and a painted sunrise served to mimic the dawn sky.

Then Lysistrata herself came unto the stage glowing brilliantly in her own pool of light, troubled face lit as if she had swallowed a small sun. Guinevere leaned forward in her seat and for the next hour forgot any other life.

She'd loved this play from the moment she and Morgana had found and read it. Lysistrata had been a regular woman no special wealth, no special privilege, no special education and yet she had stopped a war, and used all the beauty and grace at her command to save a nation. Morgana had not been so impressed, preferring tales where women commanded power after the way of men.

Seeing it now with actresses bathed in pools of light, those thoughtful determined women taking their oath to withhold sex from their husbands until the war was ended, was a delight. She watched them seize the acropolis, saw the chorus of old women defeat the chorus of old men, smiled as Lysistrata defeated the magistrate, not with strength, but clever words. She listened as Lysistrata laid out the case to end the war, listing the ways that women suffered when men made foolish decisions without giving them consideration. Tears gathered in her eyes as she spoke of young women, unmarried and childless growing old during the course of the war and felt that her own spring was nearly over. Yet she smiled again even as Lysistrata made a fool of the magistrate and sent him packing, whilst the women held the acropolis and made war impossible.

The stage went dark for the intermission and two ushers appeared with a table and their dinner trays.

"Those actors were not men!" Esobal exclaimed the moment the lights came up.

Gwen felt a smile quirk up the corner of her mouth at the boy's tone. There were some actors whose imitation of women was near perfect.

"But they were honey." Adras' eyes flicked to Ambry and Gwen followed the glance.

Ambry's blue eyes were narrow with some intent. The forefinger of the hand under her chin pressed against her lips as if holding back some secret knowledge.

"But they didn't look like men at all," Esobal protested.

"No, son, they were using magic and make-up to don female guise."

"Oh."

"And then of course things are not always as they seem, remember."

The boy nodded.

"For some of those men, being on stage with that make-up and magic is the only time they feel like themselves."

"Right, but then what about the rest of them. That's a lot of men mom." Esobal looked up at his mother waiting for her explanation. "I mean why do _they_ do that?"

"Because," Adras sighed and cast another brief glance at her daughter. "Because women aren't allowed."

"Oh." The boy thought about that for a moment. "But why?"

"Because women are stupid clearly, and unreliable and whores ready to run mad with lust at any moment," Ambry declared. "That's why they can't be in plays or do, _anything_."

Adras glared and Gwen felt her mouth falling open in shock.

"Mom doesn't court whores," Esobal declared! No one took any notice of him.

"Ambry!" There was firm reprimand in Adras' tone.

"Ms. Jen is not a whore!" Esobal said and this time Gwen looked down at him.

"What?" The girl's tone was flippant. "I'm only telling the truth, mom. There must be something wrong with women. Why else, in a play, about women not having a say, would you not have women actors? It must be because we're too busy spreading our legs and getting with child to memorize lines and show up for plays."

"Thank you," Guinevere mouthed to Esobal not at all sure why that was being mentioned.

"Ambry you know perfectly well there is nothing wrong with women-"

"There's not?" The girl puffed up in her seat grinning as if she had won game, set and match in a very long duel. "Well then it's a _stupid_, _frivolous,_ _wasteful _use of magic to make men look like women when they could just. use. women. " The child glared, widening her blue eyes as if they could make a point for her. "It's a play about women, and it doesn't matter if there is an _actor_ in the play who _feels_ like a woman on the inside, he should be a woman on the outside _all _the time."

Gwen watched the two, growing more uncomfortable by the moment.

"Ambry, you know that I make no objection to women being actors or doing any other job and that also applies to men who think and feel as women."

"You know, mom," Ambry said and Gwen saw a moment of hesitation in her eyes, "you feel like a man on the inside, but you can't be in a play now can you? The only reason why those men, who _feel _like women, can be on that stage is because they're _still_ men. The only reason anyone respects _you_ is because you act like a man!"

"Little girl." Adras slapped her palm on the table. "I've had enough of your bad attitude these long months-"

"And I've had enough of all your gender inside, outside bull-"

Guinevere heard and saw the crack of the slap in the same instant.

"That's enough of your mouth," Adras said.

Ambry stared at her mother, eyes damp, hand pressed against her reddening cheek. Esobal fell silent in his mutterings. Guinevere searched for a topic, any topic to change the subject.

"So what kind of games are offered at the Aphrodite?"

Adras' smile was tight and forced.

"Cards, backgammon, Parcheesi, darts, owuri. We have sets and tables for all the common games and a few of the lesser known."

"Oh that's nice. It must attract a large crowd."

"Oh, yes," Adras said. "Business has been very good recently. We had a guest earlier this week from Turkey, an ottoman woman in fact."

Adras went into great detail about the woman and her clothes and the foods she requested. Gwen gave it her undivided attention. There did not need to be any more arguing this evening.

"Excuse me, mom," Esobal's voice was soft and thoughtful, interrupting them after several moments. "You said I could visit with Francesca's family before dinner."

Adras looked at her son and then her daughter.

"I did." Adras let herself smile as she said it. "Of course you may go. Ambry," her voice sharpened on her daughter's name. "Take your brother to visit with Francesca's family and then go and refresh yourself."

"Yes, mother." The girl's voice was soft, neutral.

The two children got up and started for the door, Ambry holding her little brother's hand.

"And Ambry."

"Yes mother."

"You didn't get smacked for having a differing opinion, you got smacked for being disrespectful to me, yourself, and our guest. Do you understand?"

"Yes, mother."

"Good. Now go."

"Is she-" Gwen glanced at the curtain. "Is all well between the two of you?"

Adras sighed and rested her forehead in her palm. Again Gwen got the impression of an ongoing battle between mother and daughter.

"Ambry..." Adras drummed her fingers on the table. "Ambry is fine. She is growing up and she's not happy about it and she is questioning everything. Not like when she was four and she wanted to know the why and what of everything that ever happened or ever might happen. But with her own opinions and thoughts which are almost always the opposite of mine. People are telling me I've raised her with too high an opinion of herself." Adras sighed.

Gwen was silent. She certainly wouldn't have talked to her father that way at thirteen. She couldn't imagine many children that would, and yet Ambry had a perfectly valid point. The play itself made Ambry's point.

"But do you disagree with her?"

"About women being actors? Of course I don't," Adras said. "It is completely unnecessary to use male actors when you could use female actors. However, the way we think of women, the fact that women must be pure to marry means that if they travel with men they have trouble." Adras sighed. "At the same time, I know that for some of those supposed men playing women, being on stage is the only time they feel like themselves, and it's not as simple as one or the other. Feeling that you are yourself is important." Adras said the last in so soft a tone that Guinevere nearly missed it.

Gwen felt her eyes widen just a bit. It had always been a bit disconcerting that women were not allowed to be actors. Plays were never as they'd imagined them, or acted them out amongst themselves. Acting, traveling like that had always seemed a bit fun.

"I had a teacher when I was Ambry's age. A woman like no other, Jen. She taught me these things, all these contrary things that I am teaching Ambry, but-" Adras shook her head, "I am doing something wrong."

Gwen frowned trying to think of something helpful to say.

"Mom! Ms. Jen!" They heard Esobal's voice and a moment later the curtain snapped open. "Dinner is served." The boy bowed as the waiters filed in.

The waiters first set down additional candles on the table and lit them. These were followed by mysterious dishes with silver caps ,one for each of them. The silver capped dishes were uncovered with a flourish, wafting the rich fragrance of rose and oranges before them. Gwen squealed with delight before she could stop herself. Orange Conserve, this had been served at the palace once.

"Orange Conserve is my favorite," she explained with a smile.

Ambry returned as they finished laying the first course on the table. The glaring impassioned adolescent was gone. She took her seat and food with calm and grace. And seemed almost contrite in her body language.

Gwen let the warm sweet fragrance of orange and rose waft up to her recalling for just a moment her last birthday in Camelot. Arthur had summoned her to his room and waited on her himself. She had never mentioned a desire to actually eat this dish, but she'd eyed it with more than curiosity on several occasions. When he'd set it before her in a silver dish, she'd stared a long moment before daring to taste even a spoonful.

The taste of the oranges had burst upon her tongue like a sunrise, and behind it came the gentle near delicate warmth of roses, a sweet fragrance on a soft and cooling breeze. She'd sighed with pleasure at the taste and Arthur had looked quite pleased with himself. Gwen turned her mind from Arthur. This was her favorite dish and she had new friends. She ate a spoonful of the conserve and smiled.

"Still my favorite."

As they ate, Adras discussed the play as they'd seen it so far, talking to Esobal about the virtues of consistency, selflessness, brotherhood and sisterhood. As the waiters served the second course, Ambry began to chime in. Not with the rebellious arguments of earlier, but with clever observations about the play and praise for the story they'd seen so far. The tension melted away from the table.

All of the food was rich and flavorful .The boar in particular had been crisped in some strange way that Adras described as a fried something they did in Ethiopia apparently. The desserts were a perfect end to the meal. The tarts both sweet and, well, tart, and the cream topping them both rich and delicate all at once. When they'd finished, the food and table was cleared away. The great horn sounded fifteen minutes until curtain and everyone began to settle themselves for the second half.

The play resumed with the chorus arguing back and forth. The women started to slip away for sex, making the flimsiest of excuses. Lysistrata, however, managed to successfully rally her troops. She watched happily as the men gave in and peace was struck between the Athenian, Spartans and Peloponnesians. They smiled as dinner was served and husbands and wives reunited. Thoughtful speeches were made to conclude the tale and the chorus sang familiar songs of the felicity found under the auspices of Aphrodite.

Gwen found herself on her feet clapping and cheering wildly the moment the stage went dark, right along with the rest of the audience. She didn't catch Ambry and Adras grinning at her response even as they joined her.

* * *

><p>"So you enjoyed yourself?"<p>

"I did. Thank you so much." Gwen flashed Adras a smile.

"You're familiar with the play?"

"Oh, yes, we read it a lot when we were girls."

The cart rattled down the street. Guinevere and Adras sat side-by-side. Ambry and Esobal were opposite them and had somehow fallen asleep despite the noise of the cart.

"We?"

"Just myself and friends."

"Oh." Adras studied her a moment.

"What?"

"Nothing. You just looked sad at one point during the play."

"Oh," Gwen thought back to Lysistrata's speech. "That part never had any meaning for me when we read that as girls, but now here I am, and my spring is nearly over."

"Marriage is not all there is to a woman's life, Jenafere."

"Says the widow with two children," Guinevere looked pointedly at Adras. "I gave him nearly all of my youth," she murmured.

"Him?" Adras remarked. "Well you certainly don't look like an old maid, you look like there is plenty of youth left in you." Adras said. "You, look like a baby."

Guinevere resisted a smile.

"It is true. Besides love and marriage, if those be your desire, can come in summer and fall as well. I prefer the richness of summer myself, when life is at its height."

"Do you believe that, or are you being polite?" Gwen replied holding the other woman's dark eyes.

"Yes. Youth is lovely, but the young are foolish. With age comes wisdom and surety." Adras smiled on those words.

"Oh," Guinevere felt her face grow warm and glanced out the window. "We're nearly to the townhouse."

They rode the rest of the way in silence, the cart bouncing and rattling as they went. When they came to that familiar street, Guinevere spoke again.

"Adras." She looked at her friend. "Thank you for the play and everything else."

Adras smiled. "You're welcome, Jenafere."

The cart rolled to a stop.

"Are we home?" Ambry asked waking up.

"Not yet. We're dropping off Ms. Jen."

"Oh, right." Ambry smiled sleepily at her. "Good night, Ms. Jen." The girl surprised her then by leaning over and giving her a hug and whispering to her, "I'm sorry."

"Thank you, Ambry," Guinevere said. "And I don't agree with the way you spoke to your mother, but I think I understand your unhappiness, Ambry. Good night."

* * *

><p>Gwen woke with a light heart and a calm spirit. She had a bath in the scullery and dressed in her green dress and sleeveless embroidered surcoat. She and Kerenza had breakfast together and she kept the interview out of her mind. It would go well or it wouldn't and there was nothing else to think upon. As they were finishing, a note arrived from Adras.<p>

_To my very dear friend,_

_I have sent my driver Caradoc over with the cart so that you may arrive refreshed and in comfort. Many blessings on you this morning__._

_Adras_

The cart would get her to the interview in half the time she'd planned and she wouldn't arrive sweating and exerted from a walk. As much the made her a bit nervous Gwen was more than grateful for the loan. It would give her time to visit with Father Flaejer or Abebech and afterwards she could take the cart to the scribner's before going home.

Preferring to have company rather than riding alone in the cart. Guinevere asked her house mates if any of them wanted to be dropped anywhere along the way to the hospice. Kerenza gave her a delighted smile and asked to be taken to the smithy. As they rode Kerenza told her a bit more her work with Mr. Leufried and how the bible talked about transmutation. It all seemed rather fanciful, but served as a good distraction and helped Gwen to keep her nerves calm all the way to the hospice.

Father Flaejer descended upon her almost the moment she arrived.

"You are looking well, my dear."

"Thank you."

"I shall wait with you if you don't mind."

"I don't, everyone is being so helpful."

"Well we think you would be the best person for the position."

She thanked him again and inquired after Abebech. Gwen was pleased to learn that the girl was settling in well and the new family taking over the search for her parents. He told her a bit about some of the other goings on at the hostel: a donation from the merchants, an influx of refugees from famine in Scottland, and the ongoing threat of meazlis outbreak. They kept one and other entertained until the bell tolled half past the hour. Father Flaejer escorted her to the physician's office.

* * *

><p>When she had first met Physician Pradeep she had thought immediately of Elyan. Like her brother, his skin was the deep, rich color of ebony and they were about the same height and build. Unlike her brother, though, he wore his hair in lose curls that just touched his shoulders, and had a short neat beard. Physician Pradeep wore a simple sleeveless linen robe of muted almost burnt orange over an equally muted blue tunic.<p>

His attention was on the glass bulb in front of him, as the clear liquid inside darkened to a deep rich purple.

She cleared her throat and he looked up.

"Thank you for coming, Ms. Jen."

"You are welcome. Thank you for the interview." Guinevere said with a smile.

The corner of Physician Pradeep's mouth quirked upwards in the barest hint of a response.

"Please have a seat."

He indicated a chair that faced his worktable.

"So you would like to be a physician assistant?"

"Yes."

"It doesn't pay so well."

"I know that, but it is the only way I can learn."

He nodded. "You come highly recommended by both Father Flaejer and Ms. Ylsa. She thinks I should hire you right away. She thinks you will make a brilliant physician. What do you think?" He leaned forward and Gwen found herself taken aback. She had expected questions about her knowledge and skills.

"I-I don't know all that there is to know, but I want to be a physician. I was a maid for many years; women are excluded from university and no one teaches common girls anything. I learned to read and write by looking over my lady's shoulder during her lessons. I nursed a man that I hated so that I might take time to study. I want to learn. I want to be a physician."

He was silent and Gwen sat across from lips rolled into a thin line to stem the flow of words attempting to bubble forth in an uncontrolled stream of nerves. She had broken that habit, but it still happened from time-to-time. The longer he sat looking at her, the more her nerves grew, until her mind screamed, _I will be a brilliant physician if only I am given the chance._

He sighed and looked downward.

"I will be good at this," the words burst forth.

He looked up now.

"I _think_ I will be a good assistant and a good physician. I _know _I will be a good physician. That's why I have studied, that why I've come here every day." She took a deep breath. "I pay attention to things, little things that will tell you everything you need to know about why someone is sick, and therefore how to remedy them. I know over a hundred plants and cures already and I am used to hard work. I've worked since I was a girl. You could hire someone who knows more, someone from a rich family who has had nothing to do but study for hours, but they won't be as good as me."

His eyes widened and she ignored them.

"They won't work as hard as I will; they won't take it as seriously because they can do anything. When their feet and back are aching from standing all day they will whine and complain over it and want to go home early before the day's patients have been seen. They will turn up their nose as they hear tales of poor foods and ignorant practices meant to bring luck, but do more harm than good. And the patients won't talk to them and they won't get well, because they won't get the right treatments because you won't have the proper information. I won't do any of those things, though. Ylsa is right. If you give me this job, I will be brilliant."

He stared at her and nodded slowly before clearing his throat. Gwen licked her lips. Had she said too much? What if he was from one of those noble or wealthy families and she had named all his flaws and failings?

"Tell me something about your studies."

Gwen let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding and told him of her studies.

"Well, you are smart, determined and ambitious, but this will be nothing like working in a household. Many of the people that come here are ignorant and superstitious, their health broken down by labor and poverty."

"I know that. They are my own class," Guinevere fired back.

He nodded. "Yes they are." it seemed as if he said the words for his own ears. "I have others that I am meeting, but I shall make my choice by the end of the week."

She nodded.

"Shall I walk you out?"

"I remember the way thank you," Gwen said.

"Well thank you for coming, Ms. Jen." Physician Pradeep rose and extended his hand. Gwen stood and shook his hand.

"You are welcome."

Gwen released his hand and turned and walked out of his office trying not to look at anything. She shut his door with a click and leaned against the dark paneled wall, resting one hand on her sick stomach.

All her life she'd been told to be meek and proper. Since her father's death, and after the things that had happened in Camelot, she'd grown far less meek, and too bold by far. This interview showed that. Her association with Arthur, and other court nobles had made her unemployable.

Gwen took a deep breath trying to calm her nerves. She had of a certainty said too much. She had gotten angry with him during the interview, and snapped at him. And most damning, Physician Pradeep was, most likely, from a noble background himself. He could easily take her words as an insult to himself. It didn't matter how much she had studied or how good she might be, no one wanted a rude, surly employee. _She was never going to be a physician_. Father Flaejer and Ylsa would not give her further recommendations after the physician told them how she had behaved in the interview. Guinevere recalled the disdain with which she had spoken of the wealthy nobles.

Given her attitude now, Gwen didn't even think she could be something as simple as a maid. She took a deep breath to settle her nerves and started down the hall. This was the job she had dreamt of and she had ruined it. Worse still, if Physician Pradeep were a gossip, her words in this interview might come back to haunt her. What if he shared her thoughts on nobles and the wealthy with others? Who would employ her even as a seamstress? The gold Arthur had given her would not last forever. Then what work would she do?

* * *

><p><strong>AN- **It has been a while, sorry about that. I know I have long breaks between updates sometimes, but I had no idea that it would take me nearly three months to get back onto a productive writing schedule after relocating. Happily though I am back on a consistent writing schedule so I should be updating more regularly.

I'm really excited about some of the upcoming chapters, especially the Camelot chapters. The story is finally leading up to that confrontation between Arthur and Morgana, and Merlin is getting a bit of comeuppance.

couple things I want to note. I try to give a balance between what medieval sensebilities might have been and what modern readers expect. It's not acceptable for modern parents to smack their children. However a medieval parent or guardain might have beaten Ambry severly for her behavior, which wasn't simply rude by medieval standards, but unacceptable for a child to fight with a guardian or authority figure in front of guest or during a public outing. Of course this story isn't entirely medieval Adras is raising Ambry with some very modern ideas, but I did want to address that a smack simply wasn't abuse to the medieval mind.

another quick note on Gwen's interview. A lot of interviewers read from your resume, ask you questions about who you are, your work experience, etc...Every now and again though you run into one that says "tell me about yourself." the first time I got this I was stumped and did not get the job. If you are asked that question in an interview simply do what Gwen did without the sass. tell the interviewer about how your experience relates to the position they are offering.

Thank you all so much for reading and hanging in there with me. Beta by Kay and my bestie. God willing and the creek don't rise, chapter 26 comes next Friday.


	26. The Exile, Chapter 26: A Perfect Fit

**Previously in The Exile**

_Cookware held before her like a sword, Gwen demanded answers. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"_

_The stranger lifted his hands and took a step backwards. Like her, he was dripping water._

_"I'm a friend of Ms. Alfonsa's. She should be meeting me here soon. It was raining and the door was unlocked. I let myself in." The young man's eyes dropped briefly to her chest and loosened stays._

_"Likely story." Gwen brought her free arm across her chest to cover her semi-nude state and studied the red-head. He was tall and slim and young looking. Damp red hair was pushed back from a rather pretty face. Delicately curved brows arched over wide brown eyes, a regal nose, full rosy lips and chin that drew to a surprisingly narrow point for a man._

_"I truly am a friend of Ms. Alfonsa's and no threat to you. I am unarmed."_

_"I apologize miss," the young man bowed as elegantly as she had ever seen. "My name is Adras."...__**Chapter VIII The Stranger**_

_Given her attitude now, Gwen didn't even think she could be something as simple as a maid. She took a deep breath to settle her nerves and started down the hall. This was the job she had dreamt of and she had ruined it. Worse still, if Physician Pradeep were a gossip, her words in this interview might come back to haunt her. What if he shared her thoughts on nobles and the wealthy with others? Who would employ her even as a seamstress? The gold Arthur had given her would not last forever. Then what work would she do?...__**Chapter XXV Unseemly Women**_

* * *

><p><strong>The Exile<strong>

**-Part II, Guinevere Called Jenafere-**

**Chapter XXVI: A Perfect Fit**

* * *

><p>Late morning sun gleamed on the copper brocade. The formal length tunic was the last of the items Adras had ordered from her. Gwen held the tunic up against her, savoring the feel of silk under her fingers. The coppery shade was not at all right for her warm brown complexion, but it would be ideal for Adras' pale skin and rich red hair. Gwen gave the silk one last caress, wishing not for the first time that she might make such luxurious garments for herself, before folding it with gentle hands taking care not to crease the garment. It had taken hours to get every wrinkle out the tunic.<p>

Adras would be arriving shortly for her final fitting. Gwen did not expect to make any changes to the tunic at this point; she had fitted Adras enough to feel confident in that. Still the other woman would try the tunic just to be on the safe side.

"Jen," Ylsa poked her head in the bedroom door. "Caradoc is here, in the parlor, he's come to pick up Adras' tunic."

"Her driver?"

"Yes."

"She was supposed to come herself for the final fitting," Gwen complained, feeling no little sense of disappointment. Luisa had made them tea and pastries and they always sat and talked after. She had news. Her letter to Gwaine was at last off to Camelot and she and Ms. Alfonsa had decided that Ambry should come and stay at the townhouse for a few days, to give mother and daughter a break from one and other fort short while.

"Never-the-less, Caradoc is here," Ylsa said.

Gwen sighed. "Very well, thank you, Ylsa."

"You're welcome." The midwife smiled. "I've got some work to do in the still room with Kerenza. Come join us after Caradoc leaves."

"I will," Gwen said, turning back to the basket. Guinevere picked up the basket with a sigh and started downstairs. It had been nearly a week since the interview with Pradeep, and just as long since she'd seen her friend. She'd been looking forward to the visit. Adras was a busy woman, though, so it was no real surprise that she wouldn't have time for day time visits.

Gwen found Caradoc in the parlor as Ylsa had said.

"Driver Caradoc."

"Ms. Jenafere." The man rose the moment she stepped into the parlor. "Ms. Adras sends her apologies for not coming. She is feeling ill."

"Oh," Gwen said. "It's not meazlis is it?"

"No, nothing so serious, just a headache," The older man said with a reassuring smile.

"Oh, of course."

"Is that it?" He pointed toward the basket.

"Yes, would you like to see it?"

"No, that won't be necessary. I'm sure everything is in order." He took the basket from her and set it gently on the parlor bench.

"Here is the remainder of your fee." He handed her a small linen pouch. "And this." He handed her a scroll with a wax seal. "This is for the entire household. Good day Ms. Jenafere."

Caradoc left and Guinevere studied the scroll a moment before breaking the seal. A smile spread over her face as she read. They were invited to a birthday party for Esobal.

"Ylsa! Kerenza!" Feeling some excitement, she hurried to the still to share news of the invitation. She knocked as always and waited before entering. The still sometimes had the most noxious smells.

"Come in," Kerenza's voice floated through the door, and Gwen opened it announcing the invitation as she entered.

"Oh, yes, we have a standing invitation to both Esobal and Ambry's birthday parties," Kerenza said. Both women sat at the work table, Ylsa stripping leaves from a branch and Kerenza tending a small boiling pot.

"We do?" Gwen let her sight adjust to the dim light of the still.

"Yes," Kerenza said without looking up from whatever she was concocting.

"Adras' fetes are the most fun and Esobal's birthday is special of course." Ylsa finished stripping the leaves and began breaking them up. A strong,musky scent filled the air.

"Of course," Gwen said wondering a moment why Esobal's birthday was special before it dawned on her, Isobelle's death.

Ylsa looked up from her work now, expression contemplative. "I'm sure they are a good distraction."

"This year especially, since Elaine left." Kerenza stirred her little pot.

"Elaine?" Gwen frowned a moment. "Was this the friend who didn't come to Lysistrata?"

Ylsa nodded.

"Ylsa, have you seen Adras recently?"

"Yes."

"Is she—does she seem unwell?"

The mid-wife thought it over.

"She seems well enough I suppose. Just very tired, but—" Ylsa paused mid-sentence.

"But what?" Gwen asked feeling a little concerned.

"Nothing I suppose. Just thinking how I might feel if a beaux had dumped me just before the anniversary of a death."

"I was thinking the same thing," Gwen murmured an idea dawning.

* * *

><p>It was that conversation that had her standing on Adras' doorstep inhaling the sweet fragrance of gooseberry pie.<p>

"Ms. Jenafere," the butler smiled and Gwen smiled back. "Let me take you to the parlor and then I shall fetch Ms. Adras. Shall I take that to the kitchen for you?"

"No, I'd like to present it to her myself," Gwen said feeling a bit protective of her work.

"As you like. I'll get you settled in the parlor and fetch Ms. Adras." Gwen followed the butler down a hall of gleaming oak panels and grey stone to the parlor in which she had first met Ambry and Esobal and learnt of Isobelle. A long cushioned bench had been added to the furnishings in the parlor since her previous visit. The bench joined two stools, two chairs with thick plush padding, two tables and two floor to ceiling bookcases. One circular table between the two chairs and the other older worn table pushed up against the far wall where the family played games like parcheesi.

Gwen set the pie on the table and went first to the bookcases. She had of course seen them on her previous visit, but she'd never gotten a chance to study them, or better still touch them. Some of the books were leather and bounded, others were little more than a sheaf of papers threaded together with wool or leather cord. The spines had titles in neat handprinted latin or calligraphy. When her eyes landed on a leatherbound book with 'A Collection of Sophocles' printed on the spine, she reached out one hand to pull it from the shelf, but stopped.

Books were expensive. Her only access to them had been through Morgana and later Gaius. Once during Morgana's first absence she had been assigned as one of the maids to clean the archives. She'd taken the assignment with joy, grateful just to be around books, read their titles, and try to imagine their contents. During the course of work, she'd been so taken with one of the titles she'd picked up the book intended only to glance at one or two pages. Reading it, she'd become absorbed in The Letters of Heliose and Ableard and the fate of the pair.

Lord Geoffrey had found her in the stacks reading instead of working and flown into a rage. Calling her lazy, and a social climber, he'd driven her from the archives and she'd never gotten the opportunity to work in them again. When she'd started to believe that she might truly become queen she had dreamt of having a library of her own and perhaps even finding a way to make books available to everyone, rather than the wealthy few who could afford to employ a scribe.

Now she studied Adras' shelves, reaching out a hand to stroke a spine with a provocative title, but never did she touch a one. Books were expensive and years in the writing. If she smeared, ruined or wrinkled one she could not replace it. Before her curiosity could get the better of her Gwen gave up her perusal of Adras' library and crossed to the room to study the new bench. She would have to wait a while yet before learning the fate of the forbidden lovers.

It had been positioned in front of the open windows which allowed whoever sat upon it to appreciate a late afternoon breeze fragranced by Adras' pleasure garden. The bench was strange—both its seat and back covered with soft looking quilted cushion, in rich coppery brown,it looked less like a bench and more like a giant cushion with cast another glance at the bookcases and then sat down on the bench. She sunk into its softness and had to bite back a little sigh as muscles in her neck began to unknot in response. It was the most comfortable thing she'd ever sat upon.

It also faced the fireplace and Isobelle's portrait.

She studied the late woman's portrait. Dead six years now—seven Gwen corrected herself, Esobal would be seven in a very short time. Adras had been in love with her, wife to her. Had somehow accepted her lying with Gwaine for the production of a child, and then she had died. Gwen poked out her lip considering that. The afternoon breeze stirred the curtains and the spicy sweet fragrance of lilies wafted through the parlor. She took a deep breath, and let her eyes shut as she savored their warm sweet scent.

When the scent of lilies filled her nose Gwen leant back against the couch and let herself relax further. Then she remembered the bookcase.

"Ms. Jen." The parlor door opened and Ambry came in.

"Hi, Ambry."

The child wore only her plain white kirtle and bodice; her round face was serious with a slight creasing between the brows and a twist of the lips. This was not the Ambry Gwen was used to.

"I never did see your calligraphy."

"No," her face brightened with a smile. "I'm really glad you're here." The girl strode across the room to stand in front of her and held out both hands. "Come on."

Gwen hesitated a moment before taking Ambry's hands and getting to her feet. For just a moment they stood shoulder to shoulder, Ambry being near equal height with Gwen.

"Mom is not feeling so well." The girl tugged her toward the door.

"I know. That's why I brought her the pie."

"That's really nice." The girl paused and looked at the pie sitting on the little parlor table and started forward again. "I'll make sure she gets it."

Guinevere halted in her tracks.

"What?"

"Mom's not really up to visitors just now, you should probably go home." The words came out in a rush. "You can take the cart if you want to!" She added the latter with a smile as if to make up for the sting.

Taken aback, Gwen felt her eyebrows go up and pulled her hand from Ambry's.

"The butler didn't mention it," Gwen challenged.

"Well," the girl frowned with impatience. "It's not the type of thing the butler would mention."

"Having friends sit with you when you're not well always raises the spirit."

"Well, yes, but…" the girl's bright blue eyes darted around "you should just go. I'll make sure she knows that you called."

Ambry tugged on her arm, but Gwen frowned and refused to move.

"Ambry what's going on?" Guinevere asked.

"Yes, Ambry, what is going on?"

Gwen looked up and felt her mouth drop open a bit even as Ambry did the same.

Adras' always perfect red curls were in a tangled disarray, her pale complexion was waxy and colorless and a faint smudging of darkness had settled under her eyes. She wore a bright lilac dressing gown embroidered in threads of blue, green and gold; the cheerful colors seemed at odd with her dull appearance.

"Ambry?"

Guinevere heard the insistence in Adras' tone. The girl's shoulders slumped.

"I was just telling Ms. Jen how tired you were and that perhaps now wasn't the best time."

Adras sighed and smiled a wan smile before laying a gentle hand on her daughter's shoulder.

"Thank you honey, but please go and check on your brother while I enjoy my company."

"But—" The girl stopped and let out a mighty sigh. Then to Gwen's surprise, she threw her arms around her mother. "I'm just worried about you."

"I know. Thank you, sweetheart." Adras ruffled the girl's hair, and mother and daughter held each other for a moment.

"I'll go, mom, but I am not going far." Ambry left, but not without throwing a warning glare over her shoulder as if Gwen were somehow at fault for her mother's unhappiness.

Adras sighed when Ambry left and crossed the space to go and lie on her very comfortable sofa. Feeling a bit of disappointment at losing her spot on the comfy couch, Gwen settled into one of the padded chairs beside the little round wooden table.

"I apologize for Ambry. These days she seems to think she is the mother and I am the daughter."

Gwen felt herself smile.

"It is the daughter's duty to look after her mother."

"Are you such a daughter, Jen?"

"To my father whilst he yet lived. My mother died some years ago, I was still quite young so…" she stopped. "I brought you a pie." Guinevere said, her voice soft.

For a moment, Adras looked at her and Gwen wondered if she was going to ask about her mother, or if in raising her own unhappiness she would make Adras feel comforted or unhappier still.

"I have heard." She glanced at the pie. "I shall ring for the maid."

An awkward silence fell between them then. Adras was most often warm, clever, engaging, and full of ideas and thoughts. Gwen had never seen the other inward, morose. She cast about for a topic of conversation as the silence between them lengthened heavy and oppressive, smothering all thought or creativity on what might be discussed just then. Adras let out a loud yawn and Gwen looked up to see the other woman stretch, lengthening her neck and spine, extending her feet to reveal slender ankles.

It occurred to her that she'd never seen the other without a cravat or tunic with a collar that laced up around the neck. Now, though, seeing Adras' neck, it seemed graceful and swanlike.

"Do you know how many books are in your library?"

Adras brow creased as she considered for a moment and she looked at the bookcases.

"Perhaps two hundred."

Gwen felt her eyes go wide. Two hundred books, truly a treasure.

"Books are an indulgence of mine," Adras said smiling. "My teacher used to say-"

There was a knock on the door just then and Adras bid the knocker enter. It was the summoned maid with a tray for utensils and saucers.

"I thought you might want the pie now, ma'am."

"Good thinking." Adras gave the maid a slight smile.

They sat in silence listening to the gentle clatter of saucers and serving utensils as the breeze from the pleasure garden, perfumed with the sweet and spicy scents of jasmine, lilies and roses swirled through the room. The maid served two slices of pie each topped with whipped cream and left.

Cream took so long to whip and it had to be chilled to keep its shape. It was only available in the winter and almost never found on a commoner's table. Seeing it now atop flaking pie crust and sweet-tart berry filling, Gwen found herself more than a little eager for dessert, but she looked again at Adras' pale and miserable face and felt her appetite fade.

"It really is good," Gwen said at last.

"You haven't eaten any," Adras challenged.

"Well, it is," she said feeling some mild offense. "Gooseberry is my specialty and I would have had to cut it to taste it, and it's for you not for me. Otherwise I'd be stuffed with pie right now."

Guinevere picked up a saucer and fork from the little round table and ate one succulent bite. A smile bloomed over her face as she chewed, the berries filling her mouth with a perfect balance of sweet and tart flavors.

"See? It's good," she said to Adras a moment later as she dabbed away crumbs with a napkin. The other woman only chewed the nail of one slim finger.

"I'm not hungry."

Gwen looked at Adras' pale face, took in her listlessness.

"Have you eaten anything today?"

"I had some strawberry wine earlier."

"Wine," Guinevere said, tone firm, "is not a food group."

It was Adras' turn to frown.

"You need to eat." Guinevere picked up the second saucer and fork and strode across the room. She sat down beside Adras on the sofa, brushing the red head's long legs with her own and rested one elbow on the back of the sofa. She cut a forkful of pie and leaned forward into Adras' space.

"Ahhhh," Gwen said mimicking the expression she wanted from the other woman.

Adras smiled, arched one red eyebrow ever so slightly, and acquiesced.

Smiling with triumph, Gwen fed her the first forkful of pie.

In spite of her earlier boasts Guinevere felt some concern that Adras mightn't like it. Perhaps the other woman didn't like gooseberry or would find the crust too buttery. Again she found her herself casting about for some topic, for something else to focus on, as the room seemed to grow a bit warm.

Adras cleared her throat and Gwen looked up expectantly to meet her friend's dark eyes. She was closer than Gwen remembered and the orange-like scent of bergamoot and strawberries wafted from the other woman's skin, fragrances that invited one to lean in closer.

"It is good."

"I'm glad," Gwen said voice low and soft. She cut another piece; Adras needed to eat. "Now have some more."

Adras snapped her mouth shut and raised her chin with haughty defiance, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. Feeling determination and something else stir at the challenge her friend presented, Gwen sat up straight.

"Adras," she made the word a command. "I walked all the way over here with this pie and you're going to eat at least on slice. Now say, 'ahhh.'"

"Aaah," Adras complied, and Gwen smiled as she fed her the second mouthful.

"Good," she said with the same imperious tone as before, but leaning back just a bit.

She did not have the resources to do for Adras the types of things that Adras did for her, but this was surely something, small though it was. The light and lively look had returned to her friend's face and she was eating, _something._ No matter how unhappy she was, it was never a good practice to skip meals.

Gwen returned her attention to Adras and saw that the other woman had finished her second piece and had turned her face away, hands resting atop her head, gaze fixed on some point on the wall. It seemed she was still playing defiant. Enjoying their little game, Gwen cut a third piece.

"Adras," she said her tone chiding.

Adras turned her head and fixed her dark eyes on Guinevere's, a small smile playing about her lips.

"You need to—"

Adras' eyes narrowed and a spark that hadn't been there a moment before seemed to leap across the space between their two bodies, flooding the air, filling the room with heat, warming her skin. Guinevere froze, fork poised in mid-air and licked suddenly dry lips as a warm and pleasant tingle, a feeling absent these long months, went through her, to settle hot in her belly. For a moment she stared, caught by the other woman's gaze, caught by warm brown eyes almost as dark as her own. Adras shifted uncrossing her legs. Gwen felt the caressing stroke of one long limb sliding against her leg through the fabric of her skirt. The movement sent a heated, flush creeping over her skin.

"You—you need to finish eating." Gwen licked her lips and extended the third piece of pie.

Adras' smile broadened. "Thank you," she said as Guinevere fed her the third morsel.

Gwen sat back then and let her gaze travel to the plate in her lap, the half-eaten slice of pie, thick red syrup that oozed from it and the swirl of white cream running through it. Adras was an adult woman, she could feed herself of course.

"Jen?"

Gwen felt the softness of gentle fingers on the bare skin of her arm where her sleeve had fallen back, along with the unexpected roughness of sword calluses. She looked up and found her gaze unexpectedly drawn to Adras' pink lips, and felt another of those pleasant flutters. She fed Adras the fourth forkful and trying to look anywhere but Adras' eyes, she looked down and away, and her eyes landed on fair, freckled, collarbones.

_Did Adras' freckles continue downward into a dusting of red flecks over pink skin? Hers did. How far down did they go? What were these thoughts? _She needed to think of something else.

"I had my interview with Pradeep," Gwen blurted. Interview, nice, safe topic. A better topic than this unexpected collection of thoughts and feeling emerging at her close proximity to Adras.

"Thank you for the loan of the cart."

Adras finished her mouthful.

"You're welcome. 'Ahh.'"

Gwen fed her another piece, almost done.

"Ylsa said he would try to intimidate me, and I was intimidated that is, but I've faced more dangerous men." She was rambling.

"I do not think it went well. In fact I am certain it went terribly."

She looked at her friend's face to gauge to her reaction and watched slender fingers brush away a few errant crumbs. She'd noticed the slenderness of Adras' fingers before, but not the other woman's wrists. They were smaller than Gwen would have expected. She could probably have closed her thumb and forefinger around one with ease. For all Adras' height and mannish ways, her build was quite delicate and her arms were full, rounded and..._soft?_

"I became surly with him, snapped at him even." Gwen scooped up the last of the pie and whipped cream.

"I'm sure you did well."

Adras leaned forward, patting her arm in a friendly and reassuring fashion, and Gwen felt the brief, gentle, cloud-like, softness of the other woman's breast brush hers.

"Here!" She nearly jammed the last forkful into the other woman's mouth, smearing cream on her chin as she did so. Before she'd given it a thought Gwen was reaching out a thumb to wipe away the smear of cream from Adras' chin, brushing the corner of the red-head's mouth as she did so.

The warmth that had been flushing through her bloomed into a familiar heat and Gwen froze paralyzed by confusion, Adras did not share that confusion. Her long delicate fingers caught Guinevere's wrist and closed around it.

"Uh…" Gwen's mouth worked, but no sound escaped. She thought perhaps she should pull her hand away, but didn't. Instead Gwen bit down on her bottom lip and stared as Adras took the digit between her two lips, puckering her mouth around it as she took the sweet whipped cream from tip of Gwen's thumb before letting it slid gently from the velvety warmth of her mouth. Gwen gasped and a long absent tingle pulsed through her as Adras released her wrist. She started to breathe again, inhaling the perfumed scent of lilies on the breeze, and she brought her hand to her breast, stroking the now sensitive tip of her thumb across her palm.

The afternoon breeze blew stronger, stirring the curtains and the room darkened for just a moment as a cloud passed before the sun, obscuring its light.

"I-I uh—you're looking better." Gwen stood without thinking. "I should go." She turned away from the other woman wringing her hands and stroking the aforementioned thumb across her palm again, struck by a sudden fear at her unexpected reaction to Adras.

"Go?" She heard movement and there was something unnerving in Adras' tone. "Why did you come here?"

Gwen frowned, to cheer up her friend of course.

"Well, look at me and tell me why before you go." There was no mistaking the demand in Adras' tone.

Gwen turned to face the other woman and was surprised to see anger in her face.

"I wanted to bring you the pie."

"Is that it?" Adras took a step forward, eyes glinting.

Gwen stepped backwards without thinking.

"A lot of people want things from me. Perhaps you want something. Assurances that you'll have that hospice job you want so much. Or a good word to my friends just to be on the safe side."

"No. Adras—What—?"

Her back met the wall and Gwen started realizing that Adras had backed her into a corner.

"Or perhaps you're looking to be taken care of. I wouldn't have figured you for the type," Adras looked her up and down, "but you're pretty and you know it, with your low-cut dresses and lips that you're always biting and twisting."

Guinevere shrank back from the other woman and she brought a hand to her chest, as she tried to think. _Why was she saying these things?_

"I'm trying to be a good friend."

"Friend?" Adras made a question of the word, twisting it in such a way as to suggest meaning that Gwen had not considered, and took a step backwards. "Perchance you thought it would be easy and nice."

The last two words came out slow and soft as Adras parted her dressing gown to reveal a simple lilac chemise. She settled those slim hands on her hips, pulling the chemise taut as she did so.

"A woman's softness is so much easier than a man's hardness." Adras let her eyes travel long and leisurely over Gwen's form, her expression contemplative rather than leering now. "Or perhaps you're just curious; a lot of women are."

"Adras, why—?" Embarrassing heat flushed through her, revealed by a subtle darkening across her cheeks.

"But of course Gwaine sent you, so perhaps that's just it." Adras turned and walked away from her, stopping near the table and chairs where their two saucers sat. "God knows he messes over just as many things as he fixes."

Adras dipped one long finger into Gwen's uneaten slice, scooping up just a bit of pie and cream before turning her attention back to Guinevere.

"Did he mess you over too?" She looked over her shoulder as she said the last.

"No! Gwaine's been nothing but a friend to me!"

"A friend? Well I suppose it couldn't have been Gwaine that disgraced you. A woman is only forced from her home with nothing more than she can carry for one thing, and Gwaine is not important enough to make you leave all of Camelot. Who did you disgrace yourself with, Jen?" Adras started back towards her now. "It must have been serious. Perhaps Gwaine and someone else, someone more important, that's why he felt sorry for you." Adras tapped Gwen's nose as she said the last word smearing a bit of cream on her face.

Gwen's confusion crystallized into rage as she wiped the cream from her nose and slapped Adras' smug face. She'd had enough of people calling her a whore.

The other woman took a step backwards, shock evident in her wide-eyed expression.

"To the nine hells with you, Adras!" Gwen snarled and jabbed a finger in Adras direction. "I came here because someone I thought of as a friend was in need! I came because I know how it hurts to lose someone that is dear to you." Tears sprang to her eyes and she dashed them away without stopping. "I came because someone I thought of as a friend had been helpful and supportive to me in everything I'd tried to do since arriving here in Wyeledon was in need." Her words were coming faster now and she jabbed her finger into her palm to emphasize each point. "Because that person was so generously helping me rebuild my life—"

"Jen—"

Maybe, maybe there was some regret in Adras's face, maybe, but Gwen didn't care.

"Nooo!" Gwen held up a hand to forestall anything Adras might say. "Because _you_ had been helping _me,_ I thought maybe, just maybe I'd do some small thing to bring some cheer into an unhappy time. I have no extra motive. No extra _demands,_ nothing! But be assured," Gwen's small hands clenched into fist."I can leave just as easily as I came."

Gwen started forward, intent on barreling through Adras if she had to.

"Jenafere, wait!" Adras grabbed her arm as she passed, slender fingers, exerting enough strength to halt Gwen in her tracks.

"Mooommmmmmm!" Esobal's voice came down the hall. Adras' face tightened with annoyance.

"Let go of me." Gwen glared up at Adras.

Adras held her gaze and Gwen could see some regret there now. A slew of conflicting feelings pulsed through Guinevere.

"Jenafere, wait just a moment, please."

Her anger leapt up fiercely at the word "please." She was tired of people thinking that her forgiveness would come with ease.

"No!" Guinevere glared and tried to wrench away only to have Adras pull her into a fierce hug that held her firmly in place

"Esobal, go play with your sister!"

Gwen squirmed to wriggle away from Adras, but the other woman held firm.

"I'm sorry," Adras said, voice soft, a whisper for her ears only.

"Mommmm, Ms. Jen—"

"_GO! _Don't make me repeat myself!" the words came out in an irritated rush.

"Fine!" The boy's shout reached them along with the sound of his steps moving away.

"Jenafere, I'm sorry."

Adras' arms tightened around her and the smell of bergamot and orris grew stronger along with the pungent scent of strawberry wine. Adras was softer than she'd expected, and Gwen almost relaxed in her arms, but the sting of the other woman's words was strong.

"Let go of me." Gwen ground her teeth in frustration as she said it.

"I will, but please let me apologize. I _am_ your friend so please, please hear my apology."

Adras opened her arms. Gwen took a step backwards and looked up at her.

There was a blend of regret and such profound sadness in Adras' dark eyes that Gwen felt some of her anger dissipate.

"I am sorry, Jenafere."

She thought about all the easy forgiveness she'd given in the past, the under-appreciated care she'd given, and felt a hardening of resolve.

"Why should I listen?" Guinevere glared now.

"Because, perhaps, having been a good friend to you in the past, in combination with being in the most horrid and foul mood in the present, warrants that you at least listen to my apology, please."

Guinevere crossed her arms and waited.

"I'm listening."

"I am sorry." Adras paused a moment and Gwen could see the other woman carefully selecting her next words. "Elaine was not the person I thought she was and you're here and Elaine is not, but you're as sweet and charming as Elaine pretended to be. And I knew Elaine was a brief affair of course, and I'm always melancholy and moody at this time regardless, but I was thinking perhaps this year would be different. I had not felt any of my usual unhappiness." Adras seemed to think for a moment and the barest hint of a smile flickered across her face. "My daughter knows me better than I know myself it seems, for she assessed rightly that I should not have any callers at this time, but still…" her attention refocused on the moment. "I should not have said those things. I hope that you will, if not forgive me in this moment, allow that I should make it up to you at some future time."

She Arthur told her she was inappropriate and felt torn, _but_ she had come knowing Adras was upset about Elaine and Isobelle.

"I truly am sorry, Jenafere. Your friendship is important to me. And the fact that you came simply to be a friend means a great deal to me." Adras gave her arm a gentle squeeze. "Don't forgive me just yet if you insist, but please sit down here and let me give you a little hospitality before you leave. Please. I implore you." Even as she said it Adras tugged her toward the couch.

"Please sit down, Jenafere." Adras' tone was both gentle and sincere. Guinevere studied her friend's face a moment and then with a sigh, let herself be guided to the couch.

"I had it made to give every comfort. No hard back, or light padding over an unforgiving bench. One can simply sit themselves down and sink into softness." Adras smiled down at her. before turning toward her shelves. "Now, where is it?"

Gwen felt all of her misgivings fade as Adras pulled a slim leather bound book from the shelves. Book in hand the other woman at not on the couch, but on the floor in front of it. She sat beside Guinevere, at her feet, back resting against the couch. Adras gave her knee a friendly pat before settling an arm across Guinevere's knees, stirring her nerve afresh. Then Adras opened the leather cover.

A garden warm and bright with lively flowers of red, blue, pink, yellow and orange caught the eye, trees and shrubs full and lush and heavy with blossoms and tempting fruit, and an overgrown path thick with lush green grass disappeared into the woods.

"This is beautiful," Gwen remarked and was surprised to see Adras' face redden ever so slightly.

"Thank you. It is the story of Rapunzel. I made it for Ambry."

"You?" Guinevere asked. She'd never really known a true scribe, someone that had written down an entire book.

"I wrote the tale down and did the paintings myself."

"You did?" Gwen said admiration coloring the tone of her voice as she considered the detail of the garden that had tempted poor pregnant Rapunzel's mother. "It must have taken you years."

"Oh not so very long." Adras tossed a smile over her shoulder ."Once upon a time..."

Adras had a clear strong reading voice and somehow she made the story sad, sweet, and exciting and her drawings were so bright and vivid that they seemed to leap from the page. Gwen found her mind ensnared, the argument receding to the back of her mind.

Gwen reached out one hand to absently stroke Adras' hair as she listened. The other woman's words combined with the bright bursting beauty of the pictures drew her into this sad little world and Gwen felt the last of her anger dissolve. Rapunzel's tower, her flowing swath of red hair, the unhappy wasteland where she wandered alone for seven years with her twins, and finally her reunion with the now blind prince, all came to life as Adras' creation."...And they all lived happily ever after, the end." Adras shut the book and looked up at her with a smile. "Are you hungry for supper? I am sure something has been prepared. You're staying, I hope."

She could see the hesitation in Adras' eyes. Gwen considered it. She'd yet to have a meal here that she didn't like and it was the least the other could do.

"I am a bit," she admitted.

"Good, then you'll stay. Let me summon Ambry and Esobal."

Adras rang for a servant to collect the children and lay the table for supper; they had a guest for the evening.

Again Gwen thought about asking Adras precisely what had happened with Elaine, but Ambry and Esobal entered the parlor full of chatter and vigor. Adras excused herself to wash up and the opportunity was lost.

"Sorry I was short with you earlier, Ms. Jen." Ambry said as soon as her mother had gone.

"Thank you for apologizing." _Perhaps I should have listened. _"I know that you were trying to be helpful Ambry, thank you. I never did see your prize winning calligraphy."

The girl's eyes lit up.

"I'll go get it." Ambry left.

Esobal sat down beside her with a deep sigh.

"What's wrong?" Gwen asked taking the hint.

"Everyone is unhappy." He looked up at her. "Mom and Ambry, and even some of the servants. Everyone, but me."

"I see."

"I think some people are mad at me for not being sad," The boy said.

"Well why aren't you sad?"

"I have mom."

"Yes you do."

"I'm not happy that my other mother died. I wish she didn't die and my birthday is fun mom always throws me a party. And I could pretend to be all mopey and sad like mom or Ambry, but that would be a lie and mom says not to lie."

"Well, no, you shouldn't lie.

He sighed again.

"There will always be someone who will be mad at you for something," Gwen said. "No matter how many things you do right, there will always be someone to tell you it is wrong and you should do something different."

He looked up at her with a very troubled expression.

"So what should I do?"

"Please the people you care about, and please yourself, and make sure to care about the right people."

"Oh." He was silent for a while. "How do I know if I am caring for the right people?"

Gwen thought about it for a while.

"The right people will care about you and take care of you, help you and try to make you happy."

He thought about it for a while and Gwen savored the warm fragrance of lilies on the breeze.

"Like mom."

Gwen smiled. "Exactly. Like your mom."

Esobal smiled back at her.

Ambry entered with her scroll of calligraphy, a broad smile on her face.

"I'll read it to you first."

Esobal snuggled into her side just then and Gwen put an arm around him.

"You're a good boy, Esobal," Gwen whispered and then turned her attention to Ambry. "Go ahead Ambry." She gave the girl a nod and sat back to listen.

* * *

><p>The cart started forward with a lurch and Gwen sat back thinking mind full of the paintings that filled Rapunzel.<p>

Adras had made that book. She had painted the pictures and written the story. She'd even changed some bits so that it made more sense. She'd never known a bookmaker before. She'd known scribes of course, but scribes were near always in the employ of nobles. Here was Adras making and writing down books. Could she perhaps pay Adras to make her a book? She still had five pieces of gold. Was a gold coin enough? Rent would come due again, soon. Perhaps if she got the job she might ask Adras then or maybe, just maybe Adras might make her one as a favor. No she she couldn't ask such a was of course, if she went back to visit Adras again.

Adras had managed to distract her from the rude things she'd said, but Gwen was uncertain about forgiving her. She'd been warm, friendly and kind to Adras just as she'd planned and Adras had accused her of some attempt at seduction, but the other woman _had_ been flirting with her. She stroked her thumb across her fingers and bit her lower lip. Adras had most assuredly been flirting with her.

The horses' hooves and the rattle of the chains that suspended the box of Adras' cart fell into a rhythm. It was late enough into the evening that there were very few people in the streets to stop or slow the cart now. As the motion of the cart settled, Gwen felt her mind drift over the events of the day. Once Ambry and Esobal had come to entertain her she hadn't gotten another moment alone with Adras.

She hadn't extended Adras Ms. Alfonsa's offer to let Ambry visit for a few days, nor had she told Adras that she had at long last written to Gwaine. Guinevere stroked her thumb across her palm.

She was not naive enough in the world to be confused about what she had felt during those few brief moments in the parlor. In fact her skin flushed at the thought of it. When she was much, much younger, there had been a girl she'd felt something stronger than friendship for, and there were girls and young women in Camelot that had their special friends. But Merlin, Lancelot, and Arthur had come into her life in such rapid succession, she'd not given much thought to having such friends.

It was the suddenness of the desire that bothered her. The fact that her leave taking of Adras this evening had been reluctant, the fact that she'd kept shooting glances at the other woman hoping to catch her eye, and the pleasure stirred by Adras calling her pretty, describing her as seductive, had come seemingly from nowhere. Guinevere swallowed.

The last time she'd been stirred like this, she'd lost everything dear to her.

The look on Arthur's face when she'd thrown herself in front of Lancelot. The shock, the anguish, the knowledge that she'd caused those things to be there had stuck like a dagger in the heart. She felt the familiar stirring of grief that she always felt when she thought of Arthur and took a deep breath. She'd told herself no more tears. There was nothing she could do for him or Camelot now, best not to think of them and best not to think of Adras either.

Elaine had hurt Adras. After Lancelot one thing that was very clear to Guinevere, she was not to be trusted with the affections of another.

* * *

><p>Gwen stared at the empty dining room table and felt her spirits deflate. She loved living with her housemates and Ms. Alfonsa. As much as she enjoyed her little home to herself, it could be hard living alone. Back home she had often volunteered to take other girl's shifts or found extra work to do rather than head to her empty little cottage. Too much time alone led to too many undesired thoughts. Waking with her housemates, bathing with them, dressing with them, eating with them filled up all the empty spaces and moments in her life. She'd listen to their storytelling, joking, gossip, and a banter and didn't have to think about anything, but then they'd finished their breakfasts, pulled on their summer capes and left. Walking to their jobs and leaving her with proclamations of envy that she got to lounge about all day while they toiled. Guinevere had snorted and told them they should have been grateful to have something to occupy their time and their minds.<p>

A clatter came from the kitchen and Gwen started. She had forgotten about Luisa! Gwen got to her feet and began stacking the breakfast plates.

"Hi, Luisa," Gwen went into the kitchen arms full. "Do you need any help?"

Luisa stared at her as if she'd grown a second head.

"Of course you want some company. I was a maid not that long ago. It's always more fun with company." Gwen walked over to the water bucket she knew Luisa used for the dishes and got to work. The housekeeper watched her with a wary expression, but as it became obvious that Gwen knew her way around the kitchen, the older woman's doubt faded.

"I have nothing to do today, hopefully you don't mind. Perhaps you can get home to your kids early tonight."

That was when Luisa started to smile.

For the next few days Gwen helped Luisa with the housekeeping. The two women went to the market together, and when everyone left for the day Gwen helped with the cleaning. Late one night she even baked a cake and made up a delicate sugar frosting. When she didn't have to do it, cooking and cleaning could actually be a bit fun. That it kept her mind from other things didn't hurt either.

* * *

><p>A week after the unusual evening at Adras' Ms. Alfonsa made an unexpected announcement. They were gathered round the dining table; Father Flaejer was their only guest that evening. Ms. Alfonsa said prayers and had Luisa bring up several bottles of wine from the cellar.<p>

"Ms. Jen, Father Flaejer wanted to tell you himself, but I asked for the honor. You, Jenafere, are Wyeledon Hostel's newest physician assistant." Ms. Alfonsa passed her a letter bearing the hostel's seal even as Luisa poured them goblets of wine and her friends broke out into applause.

Gwen broke the red waxen seal and started reading aloud.

"I start in 12 days time, in that time I should get two white canvass smocks and a linen cap to match and—I got the job!" Gwen exclaimed, jumping to her feet.

She looked up from the letter and saw everyone smiling at her.

"Congratulations." Ylsa gave her a hug and Gwen let out a shriek of joy. She had worked so hard to get this job. She wouldn't have to be a maid anymore.

Kerenza pressed a goblet of wine into her hand.

"A toast to Jenafere!" Ms. Alfonsa declared.

"If I may…?" Father Flaejer looked to Ms. Alfonsa, who nodded her consent. The priest got to his feet.

"May the Lord bless you in this endeavor and may his grace bring you the knowledge and wisdom to bring comfort to the sick, heal their woes as well as success your chosen course." Father Flaejer declared.

"Here, here."

"Amen."

They clinked their goblets and drank their wine.

After dinner everyone retired to the parlor. Ms. Alfonsa had three more bottles of wine brought up from the cellar and they drank and played games. Synove played her lute for them and at one point Kerenza joined in with her on a wooden flute. Father Flaejer eventually left and not long after that Ms. Alfonsa retired.

Guinevere watched her friends through heavy lidded eyes. The moment Father Flaejer left, the four of them had stripped to their chemises, once again grateful to be in the Feminine Fortress. Synove sat in one of the room's chairs, a little apart from the others playing a series of simple melodies, her long dark hair falling loose and free to her waist. Kerenza and Ylsa were playing a game of cards that Guinevere had long lost, though she watched it cheering Kerenza since it was Ylsa's cleverness that had driven her out of the game. But they were going too long and the wooden chair was uncomfortable.

"This is boring," Guinevere complained and got to her wobbly feet. She felt strangely warm and flushed. There had been drinking involved in that card game. And Gwen was starting to suspect that she was drunk. She made her way to the parlor bench taking extra not to trip on the hem of her chemise. The bench however looked decidedly uncomfortable, the padding wasn't very plush at all and back was hard wooden frame. She grabbed a floor cushion and gently laid herself down the rug. After a moment she hiccoughed and sighed.

"Friends, friends," she called out to them. "I think I'm drunk."

Ylsa and Kerenza looked up from their game and Synove paused mid-chord.

"You think you're drunk?" Kerenza asked.

"I've never been drunk before. So I wouldn't know."

Their faces lit with smiles.

"Why do you think you drunk?" Ylsa asked and Gwen got the strangest suspicion that she was being teased.

"Well I feel warm and lightheaded and very relaxed and clumsy and my teeth feel weird. And you guys just seem so amazing…like my best friends really. I mean I never had good friends like this before. I had one good friend back home, and sometimes I thought my mistress was my friend, but she wasn't." Gwen pouted. "I feel really good though. I love you guys." Gwen smiled and she could tell it was a huge smile.

"Since you've never been drunk before, Gwen," Synove said with a slight slur, "I should warn you these ladies here," she pointed at Ylsa and Kerenza "are the type of ladies who like to play jokes and get up to mischief if you fall asleep first. So be on guard."

Synove waggled a finger at the two with a floppy wrist.

"I win!" Kerenza declared and scooped up the cards.

Ylsa stuck out her tongue.

Synove picked up her lute and let her fingers wander over the strings playing nothing so much as a random collection of notes, meandering along to a destination only she knew.

Kerenza got to her feet as Ylsa began shuffling the cards. The red-head snatched up a cushion and settled down beside her.

"I'm very happy for you, Jen," Kerenza leaned toward her and spoke as if to whisper some secret.

"Thank you, Kerenza."

"You're welcome. I didn't think it was very fair of Ms. Alfonsa to try and pressure you into being a maid, even under your circumstances."

"She had her reasons," Guinevere shrugged.

"Sometimes I think she is overly concerned with money." Kerenza pulled a swig from the wine bottle and handed it to Gwen. "People think women are only good for drudge work, so they try and force us to be maids, making certain we are only fit for drudge work."

Gwen considered that. What did make a person's fate, a woman's destiny? Everyone said that people were born into the positions that they were destined to be. She had tried to defy fate and lost everything.

"_Your enemy's victory shall be her bane, the would-be Queen's part remains. What the wise man cannot see is that Albion's destiny requires not two but three less all be over born by fear, history turns on the choice of Guinevere."_

Matilde seemed to think her destiny still lay with Camelot.

"_I cannot look upon you everyday, Guinevere."_

Her hurt surged. She was quit of Camelot regardless of what Matilde or anyone else thought. That road was closed.

"It's too hot!" Ylsa's complaint seemed to come from nowhere disrupting her thought process and recalling her to the moment.

Synove's strumming stopped.

"Let's go down to the sea and swim," Synove said.

Everyone started to smile.

"That's a great idea!" Ylsa said.

"But then we have to get dressed again," Kerenza said pointing out the obvious flaw in an otherwise perfect plan.

The four young women groaned.

"We could just wrap ourselves in our capes." Gwen surprised herself with those words. Just now the sea seemed far more interesting than sitting in the parlor listening to Synove play and thinking melancholy thoughts.

All heads turned in her direction.

"Jen?" Ylsa's tone was astonished. "Are you suggesting we leave the townhouse immodestly dressed in nothing, but our chemises, and capes?"

"Well," Gwen considered, it was terribly inappropriate, but for some reason that didn't bother her. "It's hot and, my friends, I have not yet seen the ocean."

Synove gasped, Kerenza's eyes went wide, and Ylsa started to grin.

"This is a crime that must be remedied immediately!" Ylsa declared with a hiccough. "Let us put on our capes and go."

"Right away!" Kerenza declared.

"There is not a moment to lose. Truly it is a crime that you have lived here all these months and not seen it. Shame on us all for not taking you." Synove said.

"Indeed."

They gathered the remaining bottles of wine and Synove grabbed her lute before heading into the foyer. The four woman draped their cloaks about their shoulders and belted them in place while doing their best to keep quiet. When they were sufficiently covered they headed out to the sea.

In Wyeledon one could not, but be aware of the ocean at all times. The air was always moist, salt flavored and damp. In the long hours of the night or the wee hours of the morn when the city slept you could hear the surf crashing upon the shore. The food was different too. Fresh fish, clams, crabs, oysters, mussels and so many other things brought in from the sea, and all the salt one might desire. Fill a few jars with sea water and set them in the sun. The water evaporated as water did and the salt was left behind for the table. In Wyeledon the sea shaped everything and hearing about all of this was as nothing to seeing it for yourself.

The pounding surfed filled your ears and seemed to match your heart; looking upon it seemed endless, a rollicking blanket dark as coal, yet coated in the silver molten light of the moon. The wind stirred spray dampened their skin and clothes and the scent of earth freshened by rain filled the air. Synove gave a little cheer, dropped her cloak on the grass and waded into the water. Kerenza followed her and then Ylsa and finally Gwen. She took a moment to braid her hair first, though; she did not want to work through a mess of tangles tomorrow.

The water was cool and pleasant and gave her a feeling of such lightness that Gwen lay back onto its surface and let it carry her.

The night sky was awash with blue-tinged silver and white. The moon high and round though not quite full stared down at them, and the stars glittered in the sky winking and blinking and showering them with light.

"Gwen, when you're out here at night you can easily get much further from land than you realize. Make sure to keep an eye on the bonfire on the wall." Ylsa explained. She looked back toward the shore and saw a fire flickering on the wall big and bright.

"There aren't many night swimmers, but it always burns."

A little shiver passed through her.

"Has it ever gone out?"

"No never. Not even during the war."

"Oh."

They kept close to one another, talking, playing and swimming always with one eye toward the bonfire on the wall. When the bottle of wine was finished they told stories about the stars and their first kisses. As the night stars began to fade and the sky took on the pearl gray of dawn they headed back to the grass and lay down letting the cool ocean breeze wash over their skin. Ylsa began braiding her hair into thick plaits and Gwen helped her. Synove begged Ylsa for a magic trick and she obliged by coaxing the shape of a satyr out of the waves.

"Jen, did Adras like the pie?" Kerenza asked.

"Yeah she did," she smiled faintly.

"Good it smelled wonderful I was a bit jealous that we didn't get any."

"So was I," Synove complained.

"Sorry," Gwen said, "I did make us a cake."

"It was delicious," Ylsa rubbed her belly with a smile. "How did the rest of the visit go?"

Gwen took a deep breath.

"It was fine, she was assuredly in better spirits when I left than when I arrived."

"Oh good," Kerenza said. "Adras and I aren't close, but I like her and there are moments when she looks so very sad."

"If my wife died like that..." Gwen sighed.

"Is that why you looked so sad when you got back?" Synove asked as she wrung water from her long dark hair.

"I-I was tired," Gwen said automatically.

"Oh, but you were up-"

"Synove," Kerenza laid a hand on the other woman's arm. "Play _ for us." Kerenza said disposing of the topic.

After a moment Synove picked her lute back up and started the song.

Gwen watched the two women in the light of the bonfire and stroked her thumb across her palm remembering the scent of lilies and four o' clocks.

Ylsa got up then and Gwen watched her walk to the water's edge. Gwen laid back on the grass and stared up at the night sky searching for constellations.

"Jennn!" Ylsa called her tone high and plaintive. "Come here."

"Whaaat ?" she asked. A pleasant lassitude has settled into her limbs and she had no desire to move.

Ylsa marched back to where she lay in the grass and stood over her hands resting on her hips. After a moment she smiled.

"I want to show you something, come on." Ylsa extended a hand to her.

"Oh." Gwen let Ylsa help her up and arm-in-arm they walked to the spot Ylsa had been standing in.

"Well what is it?" she asked.

"Were you thinking about what Matilde said?"

Gwen stared at her friend a moment.

"No."

"Oh well we hadn't talked about it in a while so I thought it might be troubling you again."

Gwen frowned.

"Gwen I know you've been challenged in your thoughts on magic since coming here, but I do think you should at least give some more consideration to having a visit with Matilde."

Guinevere glared.

"I've been thinking about it Ylsa."

"Oh."

"And I think I don't want to know anything about the future."

"Oh."

Gwen heard the disappointment in that one sound and did not care. She had been enjoying the evening, the last thing she wanted to talk about was Matilde and her fortunes.

"Did you know Adras made books?" Gwen asked changing the topic.

She could see Ylsa thinking in the moonlight before acceptance settled on her features.

"No."

Gwen smiled and sat down on the grass, tucking the skirt of her dress carefully around her legs.

"Yes she wrote it all down in a perfect, neat script, painted some beautiful pictures and I think she even did the leather binding. I wonder how long it took?"

"I've traveled a lot. I don't think I've ever meet a woman as talented as Adras, and I've met many educated women."

"I've not, but I've not traveled very much at all."

"Adras knows all the womanly arts," Ylsa began, "she also swordfights, runs a spa and salon, has a successful shipping business, is raising two children, and still has time to smuggle illegally enslaved women out of the city. She's pretty special." Ylsa's tone was thoughtful.

Gwen started to smile.

"She is. I hadn't thought about it."

Both women fell silent and Gwen watched the waves.

"I fed Adras a slice of pie actually."

"Fed?"

"Yes it was nice," Gwen paused. "But then she got mad and called me a whore."

"What?"

"Yeah she called me names."

"That's not doesn't sound like Adras. Wait why were you even feeding her?"Ylsa's tone was accusatorial. "Why did she do that? Why were feeding her? Were you flirting with her?"

"No! I wasn't trying to. She looked really bad and she hadn't eaten and she wouldn't eat and I knew she needed to eat so I took matter in my own hands. I wasn't trying to flirt I was trying to be nice and helpful, but perhaps she did think I was flirting. It did become a bit heated, because I had to sit close to her and- she has these freckles on her collarbone. Did you know she has freckles on her collarbone?" Gwen asked her thoughts running in every direction. "She could think it was flirting and she was really upset, I knew she was upset when I came to call. Sometimes people say things they don't mean when they are upset and she did apologize and I did smack her." Gwen paused to take a breath.

"You smacked her?" Surprise was evident in Ylsa's tone.

"Still she shouldn't have said that. I suppose I can forgive her as long as she doesn't do it again. She has been a good friend. What do you think Ylsa?"

Ylsa stared at her.

"You smacked her?" Ylsa asked and Gwen sighed.

"Don't look at me like that! She-she implied that I slept with her brother Gwaine and someone else at the same time. It just made me so angry."

'Wait? What? Did you?" Ylsa asked in a loud whisper.

"No!"Gwen shouted.

Synove and Kerenza looked up at them and both women fell silent. Ylsa smiled Kerenza and Synove went back to their own conversation.

"Look she was just trying to figure out why I had to leave and that is beside the point."

"Oh well what is the point?"

Gwen thought for a moment.

"The point was that she apologized for saying that-"

"Well yeah because I might have smacked her too, but is her brother some kind of villain?"

"Sir Gwaine? No!" Guinevere's tone was scandalized. "I've only known him for a few years, but in all of that time he has been completely honorable."

"Oh."

"So she forgave me for smacking her and I- I didn't forgive her, but I stayed and she showed me this book-"

"You already told me about the book remember?"

"I did?" Gwen thought it over. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, because that is how this entire conversation started."

"Oh."

"Here have some more wine." Ylsa shoved the wine bottle toward.

"No you have more wine." Gwen pushed the wine bottle back toward her friend. "You're not drunk enough.".

Ylsa giggled.

"It will be light soon." Kerenza shouted over the waves. "We should probably head back to the townhouse."

Gwen looked to the eastern along the lake the night blue was starting lightening, soon pink and orange would be spilling across the sky. None of them wanted to be out in their under things under the full light of the morning sun.

The ladies gathered their cloaks and empty wine bottles. Drunk and sleepy, leaning on one and other they made their way back home, trying to keep quiet pink and orange light streaming over them and flooding the empty streets. They were about a block from the townhouse when they ran into Father Flaejer of all people.

The priest's pale eyes went wide. Guinevere felt her face grow warm and tried to speak, but all she could think about was the fact that she was only wearing her underwear. She tightened the belt of her cloak even as Father Flaejer tugged at his frock. Finally the priest gave them a nod and they nodded back before starting on their way again.

"Was he coming from the townhouse?" Synove asked when he was out of earshot, her face red.

"It might be better to ask if he ever actually left the townhouse." Kerenza leered and swayed on her feet.

"Father Flaejer and Ms. Alfonsa!" Ylsa declared.

"Shush, ladies, shush," Gwen waggled a disciplining finger at them on a floppy wrist. "Ms. Alfonsa is clearly keeping it a secret and we should respect that."

"Spoilsport," Synove replied and stuck out her tongue.

They approached the townhouse with exaggerated postures of quiet caution. Synove and Kerenza fumbled at the door, supporting one and other as they tried to get it open.

"Hey, Jen," Ylsa said in a loud whisper. "This was a really good idea. I'd never gone swimming at night. I never imagined you could be so bold or shameless as to suggest that we walk to the sea in our under things," Ylsa giggled.

Guinevere forced a smile and Ylsa turned her attention to Synove and Kerenza.

"Hurry up, you two! I need the pot. Otherwise I'm going to squat here—"

_Bold and shameless..._accurate words. Perhaps Arthur had seen aright when he'd called her inappropriate. Just neither of them had realized it then. The door opened at last and they stumbled into the foyer, giggling. Unwilling to try the stairs, Gwen followed Synove and Kerenza to the parlor.

Guinevere laid herself down on the cushion she'd abandoned earlier that evening. She heard Synove and Kerenza settling around her.

Bold, shameless, inappropriate...She stared up at the white plaster ceiling. Dawn's light was staining it pink and gold.

"Jen, are you unwell?" Synove knelt beside her. "You look sad."

"Do I?"

"Yes."

"It's nothing."

"Is it? I've seen that look before when you think no one is watching."

For a moment Gwen stared at the other woman, she really didn't give Synove enough credit.

"It is something, but there is nothing to do about it, so I'd rather not talk about it…not right now. I'm very tired."

"Very well." Synove smiled at her and then yawned. "You know I wasn't sure, not at first, but I'm glad you came to Wyeledon Jen.

Gwen felt herself start to smile and Synove laid down on the cushion beside her.

"Thank you Synove."

"You fit with us perfectly."

Synove put a friendly arm around her.

Gwen lay starting at the ceiling. Synove started to snore. Was she a perfect fit here? She had a job she always wanted and even though Ylsa may have called her suggestion bold and shameless the three of them had gone along with her making them all equally bold and shameless. Perhaps this then had always been her fate, not Arthur, not Camelot, and not queenship. Physician Jenafere of Ms. Alfonsa's townhouse. Gwen started to smile, yes if that was her fate she could live with it.

* * *

><p><strong>AN-** How many of you caught the Scandal reference? :) Hi everyone. Thank you all so much for reading this update, I hope you liked it. And as always please leave a comment. I love reading all your comments and reviews. Thank you so much. Also I know that this chapter has some unexpected things in it so just trust me to tell you this story for a little while longer.


	27. The Exile Chapter 27: Fate's Reaction

**The Exile**

**Part II**

**Chapter XXVII- Fate's Reaction**

** BREAK**

_**Previously in The Exile**_

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><p><em>"Sir Elyan will you sit in on this council? You've crossed the border recently and if we would send men across Camelot's borders they would do better in the charge of one of Camelot's own."<em>

_...He considered his words to Annis just a moment ago. Perhaps she was right._

_"What will you do Sir Elyan? You could take the advanced party into Camelot. It could make all the difference?" Lord Constans looked at him waiting._

_Elyan stared back at the other man feeling as if he had somehow stumbled into a trap...__**Chapter XX**_

_"Ha, mom, five against one, what kind of chance do you think I have?" He still talked to his mother when he was alone. "But it's a good thing right, protecting the little ones, keeping the enemy from Castle Gogwyn?"_

_...He looked round a moment at the grass rippling and shimmering in the summer breeze, took in the sparse trees and sighed. Gwaine took a deep breath, loosed his sword in its sheath, settled his hand on the hilt, and waited, nothing more than a dot in the valley...__**Chapter XXIII**_

_"I said they cannot be trusted," Lord Troy's face was red with frustration and anger and his words escaped in a heated rush, "just as Lancelot and the blacksmith's daughter could not be trusted! They are common for a reason and everything that we have seen indicates that no matter what good a commoner may accomplish sooner or later they must give into weakness and vile behavior."_

_A hush fell over the council room, the only thing to be heard was Lord Troy's labored breathing...__**Chapter VIII**_

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><p><strong>Sir Elyan<strong>

Elyan traced the runes on the round table in front of him. He had not called them to anyone's attention as they had given Arthur their pledges of loyalty or assistance, but there was magic in this table. He had made no study of magic himself, but in his years of travel he had seen runes that meant both well and ill and learnt to pay heed to things that many people ignored. He did not know what this magic was, only that it was good, peaceable. He was happy to benefit from it now, as he and the knights from Mercia discussed their next moves.

Along the route from Mercia to Camelot he'd sent men to the great houses to carry the warning of Morgana's army of foreigners. One or two of those noblemen had come to challenge him, and question his company of Mercian knights. He'd taken some pride in explaining that they were under his command, sworn to serve him until Camelot was liberated and its rightful king restored. Along the northern border at least the countryside would not be caught unawares, and though it took time they were coming.

Only a few days after their arrival here Lord Enfys had arrived with a thousand men under his command and responded that more would be coming.

Thus far they were blessed. Morgana did not know that the northern countryside was mobilized or that an army was gathering within a day's march of the citadel. They could not keep that information secret for long. They had found and dispatched twenty of Morgana's men at the castle, sooner or later she would be expecting a report from those men, and when that report did not come...

Elyan heard a clatter in the hall and childish shouts.

"We have to tell you about Sir Gwaine!"

In the next moments a Mercian knight entered with three children. Elyan recognized the eldest right two youngsters looked as if they might be his siblings.

"The first refugees from Camelot-"

"Sir Elyan," the girl darted to him. "You have to help Sir Gwaine!"

"Sir Gwaine?"

"Sir Gwaine is back in the pass sir," The eldest boy said. "Morgana's patrol was following us... he didn't want to bring them here."

"I see," Elyan said, tone grim. It was time. "Do you know how many men?"

"Five sir," the girl said. "You're going to help him aren't you?"

"Of course." Elyan turned to the knight that brought in the children. "I need yourself and nine others ready to ride now."

"Yes, sir." The knight hurried off.

Elyan felt the quirk of a smile. It seemed his reunion with his friends was coming sooner than expected.

* * *

><p>Rain fell fast and cool from the sky. Neither man could see more than a few feet outside the mouth of the cave that sheltered. There were, thankfully, no animal smells and Merlin decided to settle himself on the hard, cave floor.<p>

"Don't hold out on me, Merlin," Lord Troy said over the sound of the rainfall. "Make us a fire and whatever spell you've done to dry yourself, how about me? I'd prefer not to catch my death of pneumonia."

"Pardon?"

"The spell may be working slowly Merlin, but it is working, I can see that with my own eyes."

There was annoyance in Lord Troy's tone and Merlin frowned. He didn't particularly care for Lord Troy. It was the combination of the storm and the strange bear pushing him toward the other man that had made him decide to accompany Troy here.

"Cyra said I should—"

"Pardon? Whose Cyra?"

"Oh," Lord Troy smiled. "The bear, she gave us the name Cyra to call her by. I imagine she has a bear name, but I wouldn't know what that is. She thinks I should trust you. So I will, Cyra has ways of knowing things. I'll tell you what I know, you tell me what you know, and how about we be comfortable when we do it? So just a little magic hmmm… Merlin?"

"What makes you think I have magic?" Merlin found himself asking. He'd told himself he was done hiding, but now in the moment, he could not, would not, admit it.

"I've known about your magic for a very long time, Merlin," Lord Troy said.

"I would have to have magic for you to know about it."

The nobleman chuckled.

"I'm sensitive to magic. And you may be careful, but there is no magic user careful enough to hide from me. For a while I wasn't certain, but after that disaster with the troll disguising herself as Lady Katrina, I was certain, but don't worry, Merlin, I haven't outted you in all this time, I shan't out you now. So," Lord Troy thrust the bundle of damp firewood at him, "get us a fire going, it won't catch otherwise. And, then if you please, use the drying spell on my clothes."

Merlin considered for a moment. Lord Troy's discomfort didn't mean much to him. While the nobleman had never made problems for him during council meetings or when he was waiting on Arthur, Lord Troy had, along with Lord Payton, tried to have Elyan and Gwaine's knighthood revoked.

"Where is Lord Payton?" He did not fully understand the emphasis between the two nobleman, but it was clear to the entire court that Payton was the leader and Troy the follower.

Lord Troy coughed, sputtered and finally growled.

"Lord Payton, did not survive the attack on Camelot."

There was no sorrow in Lord Troy's voice as he said that.

"Merlin I had no desire to have the knighthood of either Sir Elyan or Sir Gwaine revoked. That was Lord Payton's game and I could not say him nay."

It was too dark in the cave to see Troy's features, to try and gauge by expression if the other was lying. Of course a practiced liar could lie very easily to your face and it never be detected in their expression, Merlin knew all about that.

"And Gwen?" He asked, he had not forgotten the nobleman's words to Arthur during the council session about Gwen.

For a long time the other man was silent.

"Of course I doubted her ability to queen, she was a maid and well we see the result of the king's attempt to elevate her station. I never wished her dead she was a sweet enough girl, but well she should never have been in that position in the first place."

The nobleman fell silent and Merlin stared down at his feet.

"I am sorry about your friend's death Merlin. I certainly did not wish her any harm and truthfully I had no desire to see the king suffering over it as well."

Merlin snorted. For some reason that bear had followed him and caused him to come to be at the bridge at the exact moment Lord Troy would be there. The sooner he got to any reason that might be in it, the sooner he could be quit of the other man's company. Arthur already knew his secret, he was leaving Camelot. Troy was one man, if he did plan some treachery Merlin felt confident he would manage the nobleman just fine.

Merlin turned his attention toward the wood and muttered the spell, he knew it wasn't right immediately. The power stirred, but did not click into place. The wood steamed, but there was no fire. He did it again concentrating, pronouncing each word with care.

The wood caught fire with a hiss. Lord Troy smiled and held out his hands to the flame.

"Thank you, Merlin."

"You're welcome." Merlin grumbled still thinking of Gwen, Elyan and Gwaine. It took him three tries to dry Lord Troy's clothing, but the nobleman looked pleased afterward.

"And I shall keep my promise. Under the circumstances, Merlin, you look rather guilty. You and the king disappear on a mysterious quest, two days later Morgana invades—"

"—What?"

"You leave with the king, Morgana invades, you reappear without him, claiming that he has returned to Camelot. It looks very suspicious. The king has never abandoned you before, and for that matter, you have never abandoned him, so why now all of a sudden?"

"Morgana invaded?" Merlin got to his feet and started toward the cave mouth, forgetting for just a moment why they were in a cave in the first place. Light, brilliant and near blinding ripped open the darkness that covered the afternoon, and a moment later the earth shook as a deafening thunder rattled them. Merlin swallowed and went back to the fire. _He wasn't going anywhere._

"When did Morgana invade?" Again he paced toward the cave mouth and back. "What happened? How—Is that why—What happened?"

_He had said he was done with Camelot, hadn't he?_

"Sit down, Merlin, and I'll tell you."

He did as Lord Troy said.

"It was round suppertime. There was nothing happening to give anyone an alarm. I don't actually know what happened. The warning bells tolled, there was fire and smoke. I heard they came through the siege tunnels and I suppose they must have because they filled the city unchecked. I only escaped because I was making a visit to a family near the wall. The house was taken over by the guards near the wall. We tried to resist of course, but they set the place afire. I think I was the only one to escape. We were near enough to the wall that I fled. Since I did escape, I decided to make for Castle Gogwyn. She hasn't burnt or looted the city; I think she means to hold it."

"The siege tunnels?"

"Yes, Merlin. So you can see why it looks suspicious." Lord Troy looked at him pointedly.

"But Agravaine was the traitor. We know this."

"Do we?"

Merlin licked his lips.

"The king learnt it very recently. That is why the new codes went out, but there wasn't time to adjust everything."

Lord Troy stared into the flames and Merlin watched hope die in his eyes.

"Castles Gogwyn and Ogmore are compromised then." It was not a question.

"I should think so. There wasn't time to move the supplies or pick new sites."

The nobleman frowned and rubbed his brow.

"I don't know the new codes," Lord Troy said.

"I don't either. I think only the knights had time to commit them to memory." Merlin's lips thinned into a long line and he shifted, trying to get comfortable on the hard stone ground.

The rain continued to fall, the sound drumming the earth. Merlin stared into the fire, watched the dance of orange and red. _Morgana had invaded Camelot. Morgana was holding Camelot. But he was quit of Camelot. But what about Gaius? Morgana would not treat him well._

"Do you know where the king is?"

"No," Merlin said.

"But you understand why you look suspicious."

Merlin nodded. "You said you had decided to trust me and I am still not certain I should trust you."

Both men were silent, the fire crackled and hissed

"What really happened with the king's quest?"

Merlin sighed.

"I cannot share the nature of our quest, by order of the king. What I can tell you is that when we became separated, the king was alive, well, and unharmed. I thought to meet him at our campsite, but when I made it to where we'd left the horses, they and all of our supplied were gone. So I started back to Camelot."

"But the king has never left you before, Merlin. "

"No, he hasn't," Merlin said that with a soft voice. "He was displeased with me."

Lord Troy leaned forward. "Did he learn of your magic?"

Merlin froze and swallowed. How could he have guessed such a thing?

"That wasn't it. It is related to our quest."

The nobleman sat back frowning.

Arthur had never abandoned him. For the first time since starting toward Camelot yesterday Merlin felt some inkling of doubt. What if something else had happened? No, things were different than before. Arthur had never been angered with him in this way, had never threatened his execution.

"If his majesty left any trail, the storm will wash it away."

"Yeah," Merlin acknowledged in a soft voice.

Morgana had invaded and Arthur was lost somewhere. What if he'd been outnumbered by a group of Morgana's soldiers? What if he had started back toward Camelot and been taken? None of that mattered. He was quit of Camelot, there was nothing there for him now.

"Merlin?"

He started at the sound of his name.

"Huh?"

"Did you hit your head or anything when you fell into the river?"

"No, why?"

"Cyra is a bit heavy-handed and you look tired."He looked into the fire for a moment. "If we're going to be traveling together we should tell each other about our injuries."

"I see. I'm fine."

The nobleman nodded and Merlin continued to stare into the flames, thinking. At one point he heard Lord Troy move away from the fire and return a few moments later to stand looking down at him with a frown.

"What is it?" He looked up at the other man, feeling some disquiet at the way Troy stood over him.

"You look unwell. Are you sure you're not ill? Perhaps you've missed a few meals or have been sleeping poorly?"

Merlin felt the vaguest stirrings of annoyance and frowned.

"No, I told you I am well. I slept perfectly and ate well last night and I've not been missing meals." Merlin let some of his annoyance with Lord Troy's questions creep into his voice.

"Of course not, sorry. It's just—" The nobleman shook his head. "Nevermind."

"Just what?" Merlin asked.

"Just—Well have you been having any nightmares recently? Any friends turn against you?"

"What!? Why would you ask something like that?"

Lord Troy sat down and Merlin could see in his face he was gathering his thoughts.

"Well—" The nobleman stopped, clearly still thinking. "You see when—" Again the nobleman stopped mid-sentence.

"Well, what?" Merlin demanded.

"I'll just say it. Your magic is sputtering. And there are only so many things that cause magic to sputter."

"Sputtering?"

"Yes, Merlin. I told you I am sensitive to magic. You are one of the most powerful wizards I've ever been around, but it took you three tries to do something as simple as a fire starting spell." Lord Troy's voice gained confidence as he spoke. "Then two tries to do this spell to dry my clothes, and three times when you did for yourself. Your magic is sputtering."

"I'm tired. I know I said I was well rested, but I've come a long way on foot over the past two days and have been chased by a bear. I'm tired. Magic is harder when you're tired. Anyone who knows anything about magic knows _that_," Merlin said, testiness in his voice.

"So now you _are _tired?" The nobleman probed.

"I just said that," Merlin insisted.

Lord Troy snorted, but said nothing. Merlin thought about Arthur threatening to kill him. What had the other man meant by "friends turn against you...?"

The nobleman got up and moved to the other side of the fire.

"You said the king was displeased with you?" Lord Troy's face was in shadows as he spoke and Merlin could not read his expression.

"Yes," Merlin confirmed, wishing now that he had not shared that bit of information with Lord Troy.

"There are only so many things that can cause magic to fail, Merlin, ill-health and old age, counter-magic, or the guilty conscious that comes just before a Fate's Reaction, and I don't think someone is countering _your_ fire spells."

"And what is a Fate's Reaction?" Merlin scoffed.

"You don't know?" The nobleman seemed genuinely surprised.

"Would I have asked if I knew?"

Lord Troy shook his head. "A sorcerer who has been abusing his power eventually incurs a reaction of fate."

"And you think I've incurred a reaction of fate."

"Oh, I don't know." Yet his tone indicated that he was certain. "Only you know that, but you said you felt perfectly well and if it's not counter-magic, then that only leaves one other option." Lord Troy dipped his head on the last words so that the light fell across his face. There was challenge in the noblemen's eyes and Merlin bit back a groan.

"But I'd have to be abusing my power and you said yourself I've been helping."

"Well that's as far as I can tell." Lord Troy shrugged and opened his hands. "I know nothing of your actions outside of my presence, but if you are on the verge of a Fate Reaction, your magic may stop altogether eventually."

"I don't believe you." If such a thing were possible, surely Gaius or Kilgarrah would have told him. He hadn't been abusing his magic, had he? But _Arthur had turned against him._

"Don't believe me," Lord Troy snorted and stretched his face into a smug grin. "Merlin, I know more about magic than that old fool Gaius. I may not be a sorcerer myself, but I come from a long magical tradition going back over a thousand years. I know more about magic than that grasping, social climber Gaius could ever study. It was Fate's Reaction that brought down the old government ultimately, and has been the end of many of the most powerful practitioners, the fools who believe that their magic sets them outside of the laws of man and nature. The ones who believe that their power gives them the right to decide for the people around them, for the lessors, for the people who don't have magic, but they always err and then rather than relinquishing control, rather than accepting the morals that we all know and allowing all their free will, they use more and more magic until their lives and the lives of those around them are ruined and their friends and families turn against them."

Merlin fought to control his expression, but inside he was shaking. Had _he _ruined Arthur and Gwen's lives? Guinevere was dead, and Arthur was surely against him. But he wasn't trying to control their lives. He'd just been protecting Arthur. Surely Gaius and Kilgarrah would have told him, surely.

"I don't try to control my friend's lives," Merlin said at last. "I just help."

"Lots of people think that they are helping. Do you think the high priest and priestess of old set out to be a government of tyranny and control? Do you think they started out with the goal of implanting snakes into people's necks to take away their will, or did they think what they were doing was for the good, was to help?"

Merlin looked down at his feet. He had never considered the old religion at all, just accepted the things that Gaius and Uther told him.

"I'm not like those people. I don't do those kinds of horrible things. Those are the kinds of things that Morgana and Morgause do."

"Well then, Merlin, you've nothing to worry about." Lord Troy grinned at him with malicious delight as he said those words. "Of course, you could push past the guilt, just as a healer or a seer may push past the cost of abusing their magic. The guilt is actually the protective response from a soul that is worried about doing the right thing. The guilt chokes the magic and circumvents the reaction. If you push past the guilt you will bring about a reaction that is equal to the weight of the magic you've used and the damage you've caused."

"Well I've nothing to feel guilty over, because I've done nothing wrong." Merlin lied even as panic rose in him. Allowing Gwen to be banished was wrong. And Morgana, she had turned against them long ago, was that the beginning of this so-called Fate's Reaction?

"Well I suppose that's settled then, isn't it?" Lord Troy grinned in such a way that told him they both knew that wasn't true. "You should probably take this time to rest up, if you're going to keep _helping, hmm_?"

Merlin glared and looked toward the cave mouth; the rain was lessening. Gwen was dead, Arthur and Morgana had turned against him, Elyan was gone, Lancelot was dead because of Morgana, and the guilt sat on his shoulders like an iron weight. Was this all his fault? Had he somehow misued his magic with Morgana, and the result was the destruction of everyone around him?

Morgana suffering from hemlock sprung to mind as it so often did, and now along with that memory was the vision of Gwen with a bandit's finger's round her throat. And here was another person telling him he was wrong, morally corrupt from only a five minute's acquaintance. Merlin felt his stomach twist with a dreadful certainty. Merlin got to his feet and started toward the cave entrance.

"Where are you going?" Lord Troy called as he stepped out into the rain.

"To talk to my own advisors." Merlin said, he did not look back.

* * *

><p><em>"A foolish, desperate young man that has put all of his eggs in one basket," Grigor said.<em>

Was he a desperate fool? Merlin clutched the ridge at the base of Kilgarrah's head and pressed himself against the dragon's long neck in an effort to shield himself from as much of the cold wind as possible.

Clouds, thick and gray, roiling like a boiling stew pot beneath them speed by. Here on dragonback, miles above earth, above the storm, the sun shone bright and golden, it's light dancing here and there over the puff of the clouds. The idea that one could rise above a storm...It was almost enough to make him forget the reason he'd called Kilgarrah, forget Lord Troy's dread-inspiring words.

"Merlin, the Fate's Reaction is a myth," Kilgarrah said.

"A myth?" He shifted his grip on the dragon's neck ridge and leaned into his hard scaly body for warmth.

"Yes, and even if it were true, do you really believe that the choices you have made are evil ones?"

"No I don't," he answered with greater certainty than he felt considering the outcomes. "But there is something wrong with my had to do the breathing spell for me."

"You said yourself Merlin you're exhausted, stressed." Kilgharrah reminded him. "That is why your magic is sputtering, as this Lord Troy put it. Now if your choices aren't evil why would you be incurring a reaction?"

"Because its not about good or evil, its about, about taking away other people's choices and controlling their lives."

"Merlin," the dragon's tone dripped disgust."If there were such a thing as Fate's Reaction, Merlin, how could Uther have persecuted so many people, how could he have hunted my people into near extinction? No, such a thing would have caught up with Uther long ago."

"Arthur's turned against me."

"Arthur is angry, as he has been before. When he is calm, you'll tell him of all the times you've saved his life and he'll see what a good friend you've been to him."

Merlin didn't say anything, didn't tell Kilgarrah that he'd given up on Arthur and Camelot.

"We're nearly to your mother's home Merlin, get some rest you'll see differently in the morning."

* * *

><p>"Merlin I wasn't expecting you." His mother smiled upon seeing him on her doorstep. "I've had no letter. I hope nothing has happened."<p>

"I wanted to see you and with the dragon free I can reach quickly and easily."

"Oh yes the dragon." The last word came out a bit cool and flat, but then she smiled again."It is always good to see my only child."

For a moment he stared into her warm and friendly blue eyes brimming with welcome and love and let some of his worry creep into his eyes. She pulled him into a hug upon seeing it and Merlin let himself sink into his mother's arms. He took in the scent of lye soap she used on her clothes, and the clean scent of sage she burned to keep her house smelling pleasant and fresh.

"Merlin, son, what is it?" He could hear bafflement in her tone. Instead of answering, he pressed her closer with a sigh.

"Merlin, is something wrong?"

He straightened up and looked down at her face, open and kind.

She placed her hands on either side of his face so that she might study him a moment. Surely she could read all the trouble in his eyes.

"What has happened?"

"I've left Arthur's service."

Her eyes widened.

"What!? Tell me what's happened! Tell me everything."

* * *

><p>Merlin stared at the top of the green linen cap that covered his mother's head. She'd looked down as he'd finished and now she sat clasped hands fidgeting as she took a second and then third deep breath.<p>

"Mom, say something." His stomach twisted as he waited for her to break her silence and the tension growing between them.

"You have to go back."

They were sitting on padded wooden stools, the early evening light shone warm and golden through the cottage as the sun made its way west. The storm had not extended as far as Ealdor. His mother had warmed him some porridge and given him a mug of home brewed beer to eat and drink as he told his story.

"Go back?"

"Yes, go back." Hunith lifted her head and Merlin flinched back. He had not expected the mixture of anger and disappointment that he saw there.

"Go back? Arthur threatened to kill me!"

"Yet here you sit." His mother's voice was cool, dispassionate as he'd never heard it. "You used your magic to escape of course."

_"Mom!?" _Was she condemning him for having fled?

"Arthur yelled at you after you made a wreck of his life. Letting his betrothed, your supposed friend, a good woman who saved my life, who risked herself for you many a time, be killed. Arthur—"

"—But mom—"

"You are still my son, don't interrupt when I am talking to you. " Hunith glared at him.

Merlin snapped his mouth shut.

"Arthur yelled at _you_ after you as good as colluded with his enemies, and when you're not praised for wrecking his life, when it gets hard, you run away." Hunith tightened her shawl around her arms. "I'm so disappointed in you and Gaius. He must have greatly changed while living under the ban, but I didn't send you to Camelot to become this—" she paused and Merlin could see her searching for words, "—this, whatever it is, you've become. You have to go back and you have to make amends."

She held his gaze until he looked away, unwilling to accept the truth of her words.

After a moment he heard movement and looked up to her standing, shawl pulled tight around her arms.

"I'm going to Mary's house, I promised I'd check in on her."

"But, mom, are you-are you turning against me?"

"Merlin," for a moment her eyes softened, "if you think that your decisions have been on the side of right then I don't have to turn against you, we were never on the same side."

Merlin felt his stomach bottom out and his throat tightened. He looked down, no longer able to face her. After a moment he heard her steps moving away from him and the thud of the door shutting.

When he looked up, it was to see the setting sun out the window; it painted the sky and clouds brilliant hues of fire before dropping below the horizon. The stars came out; the moon rose. He thought about lighting the lantern and tried and failed. He concentrated, reciting the simple spell perfectly and nothing happened. He did it again. No power stirred, there was nothing. He did it a fourth time, a fifth time and still nothing. He tried the first magic he had learned; moving objects with his mind. He couldn't so much as lift a pin. Sitting alone in the dark Merlin realized Lord Troy was right. His magic was dead, the next step was Fate's Reaction. He thought again of Arthur threatening to kill him, Morgana and Gwen dead, perhaps it had already begun.

* * *

><p><span><strong>Morgana<strong>

Morgana Pendragon's right arm ached, sweat ran down along her forehead and soaked her hairline, the edges of her vision blurred and still the crystal pendant swung. She had come to the opposite edge of the map, again.

She dropped the dowsing crystal in disgust before collapsing into her chair. She had been dowsing for hours, trying to determine her brother's location. Just two days before their arrival Arthur and Merlin had ridden off on some mysterious quest known only to themselves and a few others. Their destination, their expected return, their route all of these things were a mystery.

Dowsing was a simple enough task, usually it was used to find water, gemstones, things of that nature. A natural seer such as herself could use dowsing to determine the location of people, objects or anything she desired as long as she had some connection to the persons she wanted to locate or something that connected to that person's spirit. She should have been able to find Arthur with ease.

But instead she'd spent hours standing over a map, swinging her crystal back and forth and back and forth until she'd crossed all of Camelot ten times and time again, all the while holding a picture of Arthur in her mind. The crystal should have dropped the first time she crossed his location.

She glared at the map again. _"You are a natural seer Morgana, hone your gift and nothing shall be hidden from you."_

Morgause had said those words to her the day they had begun her training.

The failure was not her magic. Morgana stood again, held the crystal over the map, closed her eyes and thought of Helios. She swung the pendant and it pulled immediately as if another hand reached out to guide hers. It landed with a solid thunk on the map. Morgana opened her eyes and looked down. That was where she had sent Helios' patrol.

She sat back down thinking.

Did the enmity between them keep her from finding him? No she'd found enemies before, hate was just as strong of a tie as love. No something else was happening. Could he be dead? The crystal would have pointed to his body. Something else was happening. For a long time she staring at the map eyes traveling over the miniature forests and mountains turning the problem over and over in her mind. It came to her then something she had not expected. Her magic was not failing her, _magic_ was protecting him!

Morgana ground her teeth. How could a magic user protect Arthur Pendragon, of all people? They would find this traitor eventually, but in the meanwhile...She remembered the bracelet she'd used to enscroll Guinevere and started to smile. In the meanwhile if she could not find Arthur, she would find Guinevere.

* * *

><p>AN- So hey after just two short weeks I'm bringing another chapter (Yay!). I hope you all liked it. I'm a bit excited about this chapter because all of our principal characters have reached their nadir (low) point now and they may not know it yet, but there is only one way for their story to go from here. Thank you all for continuing to read and I hope you'll tell me what you think in the comments. Have a good week everybody.

Also the Scandal reference in chapter 27 was "wine is not a food group." Gwen said this to Adras, but Jake said it to Olivia first. :)

Special thanks to Babykay47 and my best friend shanel for all their hard work as betas for The Exile. I couldn't have donbe it without them.


	28. Chapter 28: Dance of the Fireflies

_For those of you that have been asking for an Arthur chapter or a longer chapter this one is a doozy. :) Its good and long and its all Arthur, with a couple little Arwen flashbacks thrown in, enjoy. Beta work by Babykay and Shanel thank you both for all of your hardwork._

* * *

><p><strong><em>Previously in The Exile<em>**

_Arthur brought his hand to Guinevere's ring, stroked the warm metal between his thumb and forefinger. The rage receded, the sea grew calm. He saw the churned muddied earth for what it was footprints, lots of footprints, rank upon rank of them and then the most brutal pain knifed through his skull. Arthur gasped and his eyes watered, his vision blurred round the edges. He staggered two or three steps while the world did somersaults before collapsing face first in the dirt as his bowels voided themselves...**Chapter 18 Two Roads**_

_"Ugh!" Aikat waved her hand in front of her face as she looked around trying to determine the source of the odor._

_"Look," Drystan pointed at something partially hidden on the valley floor just a few yards from Morgana's door. "It's a body!" He said with wide excited eyes._

_Aikat ran to the body her brother had spotted and crouched. The body lay on its stomach, face turned away from her, short blonde hair littered with twigs and leaves. In spite of her brother's insistence that this was a body she thought she saw the gentle rise and fall of someone breathing. He smelled awful, but Aiket attributed that to the mess in his breeches baking in the warmth of the afternoon sun. He wore armor and she thought it had to be roasting him if he'd lain long in this sun._

_"He is not dead Drystan stop being dramatic," Aikat said...**Chapter 24 The Right and the Left**_

* * *

><p><strong>The Exile<strong>

**Part II**

**Chapter XVIII: As the Fireflies Danced**

* * *

><p>"You're awake." A woman's voice came out of the blob and Arthur squinted. It was certainly a face. He could identify the hair and sort of see eyes, but squinting made his eyes hurt and the headache got worse, so he relaxed and let the face be a blob again.<p>

"How do you feel? Are you in pain?"

"Head-" Arthur grunted as the ache in his head throbbed and he brought a trembling hand to his forehead. The ache eased and he tried again. He got the word out the second time, but it sounded raspy and strange and the blob leaned closer.

"What?" Her tone told him she didn't understand.

"Head hurts," he grated, emphasizing the words as much as he could.

"What else?"

She must have understood him that time

"Can't see, and," he coughed, "thirsty."

A damp cloth was pressed to his lips and moisture dribbled into his mouth. He sucked without thinking.

"No matter," the blob said at last. "We'll take care of you."

He wanted to ask who_ they _were, but he was so tired. His eyes shut of their own accord and he slept.

He woke briefly perhaps two or three times, each time the room always seemed to be spinning. Once he was fed a few sips of flavorful broth, another time the bed he was in was being changed because he'd messed himself, and a third time he'd thought Guinevere was there, but he'd woken to find it was just a dream. Each time he woke, the pain in his head was there and the weakness in his limbs drug him back into sleep, too drained to have any idea of what was happening around him.

Arthur stared up at the sky blue plaster and timber beams in the ceiling. No wonder he'd been dreaming he was outside. His head was still aching, but the spinning sensation he'd been suffering had past. He also didn't feel that sense of trembling weakness in his limbs. He wondered at that. How one could lie unmoving and feel weak?

He coughed, a weak sputtering sound, and his throat began to ache for dryness.

"Hi!" A child appeared at his bedside from nowhere, smiling with a head of unruly brown curls. "You're awake. I'm Drystan. Are you hungry? Are you thirsty, Sir Knight?"

"Thirsty," his voice came out in a weak croak.

The boy poured water from a pitcher at the bedside into a wooden cup. Arthur lifted his hand for the cup and that trembling weakness returned. His hand shook as he took it from the child and the cup had all the weight of his sword after a day spent training. Arthur pushed himself up on one elbow and he trembled throughout his body as the room spun. Fear bubbled up in his stomach. This was worse than the weakness that had come upon him during his quest to the Fisher King.1

He sat unmoving, gripping the cup so that its wooden surface dug into his hand. He waited for the dizziness to pass. The trembling lessened and he lifted the cup to his lips with two hands. The water was cool and wonderful in his mouth. Arthur sipped at it faster than he knew he should, but he couldn't stop himself, he felt so parched. The water hit his stomach like a stone. He coughed, his hands began to shake, his limited strength gave out and he fell back against the bed, spilling the water across the linens as the cup went rolling.

"Mom!" Drystan ran from the room.

Arthur felt a little whimper in the back of his throat. All he wanted was some water to ease his discomfort, but his thirst remained a torment. The dull headache that seemed to have been with him for as long as he could remember now began to throb and burn again, he trembled in every limb as if he'd fought a full day's battle, and in addition to it all, his stomach cramped as if a great fist were squeezing it.

"Hello, Sir Knight ."

Arthur opened his eyes and slowly turned his head toward the doorway. A girl perhaps ten or eleven-years-old was walking into his room. She had dark eyes that took up most of her face and wore a pale yellow dress. He tried to speak a greeting and coughed.

"You're a knight of Camelot right?" she said, crossing to his bedside with deliberate steps, a large book held under one arm.

"Yes," he managed that word in spite of the dryness of his throat.

"My parents are witches." She stared down at him with angry eyes. "I'm a witch." She glanced over her shoulder. "Normally Camelot knights hunt witches, but if you hurt my parents I'll be the one hunting you." Her dark eyes flared golden for a moment and then she turned and ran from the room.

Arthur stared after the girl, mouth hanging open. He'd just been threatened by an eleven-year-old, whose parents were witches. Who were her parents? Arthur closed his eyes, perhaps if he went back to sleep he'd wake up somewhere else where he wasn't as weak as a kitten or being threatened by eleven year-old witches.

"Oh, my." He heard a familiar sounding woman's voice . Arthur cracked-one eye opened and turned toward the woman's voice. She stood in the doorway, tall, sun-browned, with very dark eyes, gleaming dark hair in a long braid and wearing a blue-green dress.

"I am Rhosyn." She strode into the room and stood over him, hands on her hips as she considered the situation. _Was this one of the parent's the little girl had been concerned with? Perhaps the mother the boy Drystan had mentioned?_

"You're too large for me to manage on my own."

Her eyes glowed golden and Arthur shrank back into the bedding with fear. She paid him no mind and held a hand over his middle as she muttered some spell. When she took her hand away the bedding was dry.

"Have no fear, Sir Knight." She sat down on the edge of the bed. "My family has been nursing you for some four days. If we wished you ill we simply could have left you lying on the forest floor. You'd have died on your own or perhaps," she smirked at this, "something would have eaten you. Can you tell me your name?"

"Aa –Leon," Arthur said just in case they knew something of his knights.

Her eyes widened and she stared at him a moment. _Did they know who he was?_

"Very good, Sir Leon."

Arthur felt himself relax. She took his head between her hands and he winced.

"Head still aching?" She peered into his eyes.

"Yes, thirsty also."

"Open your mouth and stick out your tongue." After examining him, she said, "Tongue is a little whiter than it should be, but that is to be expected. Chew on this." She stuck a thick stem of grass in his mouth. The sharp taste of mint filled his mouth.2

"Anything else ailing you besides the head?" She eased his head back down.

"Weak," he whispered it, but she seemed to hear it just fine. "Stomach…" He coughed. "The water-"

"It was probably too cold and too much. You have been without food for some time."

"Mom."

They both looked toward the doorway and Arthur felt his eyes widen. A tall blonde maid stood in the doorway with a tray and she looked as if she could have been a sister to him, far more so than Morgana.

"Here's the tray you asked for." She glanced at him and looked back at her mother. "Can I go practice my forms?"

"Yes, of course. Thank you, darling."

"You're welcome, mom."

The girl sat the tray across his lap and hurried out. A rich flavorful scent hit his nose and Arthur's stomach growled. Rhosyn smiled at that.

"Where is that boy with the cushions? I'm sure we'll need them." Rhosyn got to her feet. "Sit tight, Sir Leon." She left and Arthur laid back down, waiting for her to return, mouth watering at the scent of the food so close, but thinking of the way his stomach cramped with the water, he was more than willing to wait for Rhosyn to return.

Rhosyn was a witch. Merlin was a sorcerer, he was being taken care of by a witch, and something else had happened just before, before...that pain had burst into his skull. His head started to throb and he reached for Gwen's ring. His fingers found the round of metal warm from contact with his flesh and still in its home. Arthur began to relax and his headache eased.

"Still awake?" Rhosyn was there again, two cushions under her arm.

She sat the tray aside and helped him to sit and get the cushions behind his back. Rhosyn resettled the tray across his lap. He wanted to feed himself, _he wanted not to be relying on the care of magic users,_ but neither of these things was going to happen. Though apparently he'd been relying on the aid of a magic user for six years now and according to said magic user he'd be dead several times over if not for magic.

"You need to eat." Rhosyn lifted a spoonful of broth to his lips. "Just a little."

The broth smelled divine, but Arthur's stomach was still unsettled from the water.

"The water-"

"You had too much. Take it one slow sip at a time." Her expression was warm and encouraging.

The fragrance of the broth, her reassurances were more than Arthur could resist, he took a small sip. The warmth of the broth filled his mouth with the rich flavors of chicken and rabbit, and all good things. Its scent filled his nostrils as he swallowed. It warmed and soothed his parched throat as it went down, spreading a languid warmth into his stomach.

"More please," he rasped. Rhosyn fed him another spoonful and he sipped at the broth in earnest. She fed him a bit more before insisting he take a break, reminding him he'd get sick if he ate too fast. She was right of course, but it didn't stop him from thinking about the food or wanting it.

"Where am I?" he asked to distract himself.

"One of the old Roman forts," she explained.

"Oh," Arthur said. "Did you come from Camelot?"

She nodded.

"Oh, you must have fled the purge."

She frowned then and for a moment he saw conflict in her dark eyes.

"You should probably have more soup now."

She fed him the remaining soup with two breaks and Arthur found himself yawning by the time they finished.

She gave him a small smile. "I'll let you get some sleep."

He wanted to stop her. There were so many questions? _Where was he? Who were these people? Why were magic-users helping him?_

She rose, hands on her hips. "Look here."

He turned his attention to the table at the bedside forcing himself to focus. There was a pitcher of water, a strangely shaped brass pan, and a little bell.

"Water if you thirst, the pan for you to relieve yourself, and ring the bell if you wake and find yourself alone and need help."

"Thank you," Arthur murmured and drifted into sleep without another word or thought.

* * *

><p>He woke to darkness and his body's need to relieve itself. He managed to sit up on his own, but the pan Rhosyn had indicated made his arms ache with the strain of lifting it. Remembering the accident with the cup, Arthur gave the little bell a ring.<p>

For all that he was accustomed to having anything that he wished done for him, Arthur felt some embarrassment at the idea of needing help using the privy. Still even if they did magically clean the linens, he didn't want to mess them in that way in the first place. Pissing himself seemed far more embarrassing than needing help taking a piss.

Just as he finished that thought, a tall man, carrying a candle held high, entered. Arthur stared and swallowed.

"Fa-" He must have been dreaming some bizarre dream. He remembered the girl from earlier, the one who looked enough like him to put him in mind of a sister.

"What can I help you with, Sir Leon?"

Arthur twisted his lips before speaking, studying the other man. His father would never address a knight in that way. He studied the other man. In his dreams his father alternated between being comforting and supportive or sneering. He studied the man fronting him. Same green eyes as his father, but narrow chin and jaw, nose a shade longer, and there was something else he could not quite name.

"Sir Leon?'

His bladder twinged. _Would he dream of his father helping him with the privy?_

"I need the pot," he said at last.

"Ahh, my wife thought you might."

The stranger sat his candle down and lifted the pan from the bedside table, but Arthur held the coverlet fast against him.

"Who are you?" he asked.

The corner of the stranger's mouth quirked upwards, and he took a breath.

"Ambrose." He paused as if he were waiting for something. "You're Sir Leon, right?"

"Yes."

"Very well, Sir Leon. Let's get this business over with."

When that was done, Ambrose got him a damp towel to clean up his hands and another cup of water.

"I have questions," he said to the older man.

"Of course you do, but my wife and I are both practitioners of the medical arts and I think it may be of greater import to talk about your present state."

Arthur frowned.

"My health?"

"Yes, Sir Leon, you are young for elf-stroke." 3

"Elf-stroke?"

"That's the common name, comes from the idea that elves are using some evil magic to strike the unwary from a distance. In reality it is an illness commonly brought on by old age and overwork or stress."

"Old age, but-"

"You're not old. That is evident." Ambrose paused and tilted his head to one side. The shadows in the room hid half of his face and again Arthur thought of his father.

"I will explain, but answer some questions for me. Have you been under much stress recently?"

"Yes."

"And you have been eating and sleeping well or poorly?"

"Poorly," Arthur admitted.

"And your position is stressful."

"Being a knight has its challenges."

"Yes, of course it must be very stressful, though not as stressful as say, your father passing, being crowned king, a new-found sister plotting to overthrow you, and your betrothed betraying you."

Arthur felt his face grow hot under Ambrose's green gaze. It seemed he was perhaps caught in his lie.

"You don't have to lie to us, Arthur. You may be in a den of sorcerers, but you are also with family and we want to help you."

Arthur frowned not at all reassured. Thus far, all of his family was proving to be very treacherous.

"I'm your father's brother. When I was at court I was called Ambrosius Aurelius."4

Arthur felt his eyes grow wide. His father had, once or twice when he was younger, mentioned such a brother. He had not recognized the name until it was put together.

"So you have heard my name?"

"Yes, I have."

"Let me assure you, Arthur, I've no desire to harm you or interfere with you. You are my guest, the son of my brother, and you are ill. Simple human decency demands I treat you well even without the bond of family between us."

Arthur didn't say anything and he thought perhaps he saw regret flicker in the other man's eyes.

"You will recover your strength in full, Arthur, but I want to warn you that if you are not careful, if you do not eat well, rest well, those first effects of the elf-stroke, headache, weakness, poor vision, and your inability to form words, will become permanent. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Get some rest, Arthur."

He wanted to argue with Ambrosius, ask more questions, but the older man was already leaving and taking the light with him. Alone in the dark he could not resist the pull of sleep.

* * *

><p>Over the next few days Arthur's period of wakefulness grew from just enough time to eat, and use the privy to full hours where he found himself sitting at loose ends trying to make idle chatter with his cousins and wishing he might hop on a horse and get back to Camelot. There was so much to do.<p>

Where was Guinevere? How was he to find her? Sometimes he pictured her living, happy working as a seamstress in some busy prosperous village. He'd watched her with a needle and thread some quiet evenings in her little home, her fingers nimble and graceful, making careful stitches as she repaired some garment for Morgana. Or later after his father had fallen ill and he'd ordered new dresses for her as a thank you for nursing him, she'd insisted on making them herself and adding pretty embroidery to the fabric.

Sometimes he grew bored watching and he'd disrupt her sewing.

"_I'm to spend the entire evening watching you sew?"_

_She'd raise her head slightly, a coy little smile playing around her lips. Firelight making her warm brown skin glow._

"_Did you have something else in mind, Sire?" She'd bat her eyelashes then._

_He'd groan and stand over her for a moment. "Guinevere." It would only be her name, but it would tell her everything he wanted her to know._

"_Well if you must interrupt my sewing," she'd say, her tone prim and slightly chastising, "then you'll have to make-up for it."_

_He understood the game perfectly well. "Anything you wish, my lady."_

_Sometimes she asked for absolutely nothing, other times she asked him to clean something like her dishes or sweep her floors. The first few times she'd done that he'd balked and she'd held his eyes and told him "It's only fair since I have all these things to do and they will still have to be done when you've gone."_

_He'd offered maids, titles, things of that nature. She'd laughed then and said "I only want you."_

_He'd given in and done the chores. After a while he found a certain satisfaction in seeing Guinevere's home cleaned as a result of his own labor. In fact after some days when no headway could be made in his own work, he would sneak down to Gwen's home and do some of her chores for her. There was something to be said for doing a task you were certain to complete, and pleasing someone else in the process._

He hoped that she was alive, and well and happy, that Elyan's insistence that she was dead a mistake. He wished he could be like some men and women who insisted that they felt a missing loved one still lived, in spite of their absence, but he could not spend time on wishes. He had far too many things to consider right now and all were of equal importance and urgency. And for the moment he could do nothing about any of them.

Drystan was the first to notice his wakeful periods and took it upon himself to distract Arthur from his worries with tales of his childish adventures until he found himself bored back to sleep. His Aunt Rhosyn did notice eventually, and when he finished a third meal fully alert and awake she produced a basket of yarn and told him to hold out both hands. She needed someone to help her twine the yarn. So for the next few days his hands were put to use as place holders while his aunt rolled her yarn from hanks into balls, or shelling peas, sorting buckets of pebbles, or smoothing down new wooden utensils and tools.

He had done chores for Guinevere, he may as well do them for his family, and when he did help them they had more time to sit and talk with him. Aikat had lots of questions about being a knight and the battles he'd fought in. His aunt talked about her children and their life in the woods. Sometimes she asked him to hold Nerys which was fine, even though the baby drooled all over him. After a while, even Ismene started coming and reading to him.

Four days after their first conversation his Uncle came and sat with him.

"Do you feel up to joining us for meals?"

He considered a moment, "I no longer feel dizzy or tremble when I sit up, so yes, I think so."

"Good. I think you're ready for some exercise as well. Two walks daily, for a start. Aikat prefers being outdoors and Drystan follows Aikat everywhere; they will accompany you. I imagine you will want to keep up with your training?"

"Yes, I would, and the sooner the better." He didn't care for the weakness in his sword arm. "You have a training field?"

"It is a little smaller than the field at the palace, but it serves for Aikat and myself."

"Good even if I am not ready to return to Camelot I should not let my training slip."

"Arthur," Ambrose's tone was one of caution. "Your strength will return, but it will take some time."

He frowned.

"I still don't understand the elf-stroke, or the brain storm. Was it that awful pain in my head that came like a bolt from nowhere? It lasted only a handful of minutes, how can it have such powerful affect?"

"The period leading up to it was months. Surely you noticed some loss of strength and vigor just before?"

He nodded. He'd chalked his ill-feeling up to poor sleep and diet.

"If you were an older man the symptoms of the elf-stroke would most likely be permanent. Surely you've seen someone suffering the illness in Camelot?"

He thought then of Sir Ector. A retired knight nearly his father's age. The man had gone to sleep one evening as well as always and woken the next day with his face twisted, and unable to speak. His family had retired to his country estate not long after.

"Yes, but-" Arthur brought a hand to his face. His headache, the hours after, were akin to what had happened to Sir Ector?

"-You're a young man and so you have been so strongly affected. Right now you must focus on recovering."

"I have a kingdom to run and I am already more than a week absent."

Ambrose pursed his lips.

"Tell me, Arthur, for how long would you like to be king, would you like to live?"

"As a knight I have risked my life over and over; I do not fear death." Arthur returned in prideful resentment.

'I'm certain, but Arthur, those were justified risks; returning in this state would not be justified. Someone will come looking for you and I've got my friends out looking for them. When they come you will not be kept from them, but take this time to rest and grow strong. Camelot needs a strong king with a sound mind and body. You do not have that yet. Right now I doubt you could sit a horse for five minutes, much less mount one. What will you do on a throne?"

Arthur flushed at the truth of these words.

"You told me you left Sir Leon in charge. Do you trust him?"

"He is one of my most loyal men, served under my father."

"Good. And things were peaceful when you left?"

Arthur hesitated a moment. "As peaceful as they can be. Camelot has its enemies, but none threaten us at the moment." He thought of Agravaine and Morgana.

"Then all the more reason for you to stay and rest, so that you can face those who threaten your kingdom with all your strength at your command."

"Your words make sense, uncle, and in truth I have very little choice."

Right now if he returned and was too weak to stand, there would be those who saw him as too weak to lead. His uncle was right, he needed to rest and recover his strength.

"I'll go at your pace for now, uncle."

"Good." Ambrose smiled and there was encouragement in it. "I shall find Ismene and have her read for us a bit."

* * *

><p>The dining table was set with wooden plates and several covered stone dishes. Ambrose nudged Arthur toward the chair to the left of the head and Arthur took hold of the arms and slowly lowered himself into the seat. The moment he was at rest the sense of trembling seized his limbs again and Arthur frowned. He'd felt fine a moment ago, but now the trembling in his limbs made the thought of rising and walking back to the sleeping room seem an impossible task.<p>

"That's cause you never play anymore, Ismene." Arthur heard Drystan's complaint just as the boy entered the room.

"I'm very busy, my studies are important." Ismene said firmly.

"Drystan, I'll play with you," Aikat said.

"That's true." The boy pouted and then cheered as his eyes landed on something on the breakfast.

"Come on children, sit down." Rhosyn said coming to the table.

Ambrose took his seat at the head, Rhosyn on his right and then the children filled in—Aikat next to him, Drystan across, and Ismene at the foot.

"Ismene, would you like to say grace?"

The girl smiled and the family bowed their heads for prayer. There was no grace at Uther Pendragon's table. Arthur sat in respectful silence while the girl thanked their heavenly father for the meal they were about to receive, for waking them up this morning and then to his surprise, their guest.

Just one week ago she had threatened him, and today she was thanking God for his presence. He did not understand them. There was nothing evil about them or Merlin for that matter.

"Amen," they said it as one.

Everyone crossed themselves in near perfect unity and Arthur hastily tried to copy them.

"You don't have to be like us Arthur." Rhosyn gave him an encouraging smile as she lifted the lid from a pot of millet porridge. They filled wooden bowls with hot cereal, then passed dishes of thick slices of warm, dark rye bread. There were poached eggs with onions and sprinklings of herbs, and finally the flaky smoked fish his uncle had mentioned. Butter was passed around for the bread, but there was no jam or preserves, and he could detect not a hint of sweetness in the millet.

Arthur studied his plate. Everyone around him was eating with relish. The little one Drystan seemed to love everything and proclaimed it throughout the meal with a great grin.

He could hear Merlin and Guinevere admonishing him now. His uncle didn't set as poor a table as Merlin's mother had, but this food-

Arthur cut that thought off. His cousins had saved his life. They didn't know him, they knew he may well be a danger to him, but they had welcomed him into their home. Even a king had to play the diplomat. Arthur ate a spoonful of the porridge, focusing on the rich taste of the milk; there was some sweetness to it.

He took a bit of the bread and carefully controlled his face. The texture was rough, the flavor a strong one. Rye was not a taste he ever thought he would get used to, but his body needed nourishment and this food was fresh and hearty. If farm-boys could grow big and strong on this type of food, then surely it would hearten him. He ate some of the eggs, which were not bad, though he preferred them baked in a pastry with cheese and onions and perhaps a bit of spinach. The fish he saved for last. The flavor was rich and smokey and he actually liked it.

"Aunt Rhosyn," he said.

She looked up from her plate.

"Everything is really very good, thank you."

"That's good of you to say, Arthur, you're welcome."

He stared a moment. Surely his displeasure had not been obvious.

"It's all very plain stuff, boring peasant food, nothing like what you're used to. Your uncle had a very hard time adjusting. I had a hard time adjusting to some of it. So it's good of you to say, to be polite and considerate."

Ambrose smiled and Arthur felt himself start to relax.

"Well I like everything," Drystan said.

"Me too. All the food is perfect," Ismene said.

"That's right. It's what we grew up with, and I wouldn't have it any other way," Aikat declared.

* * *

><p>The following morning Arthur helped Aikat and Drystan clear up after breakfast so they could get to his walk sooner.<p>

Stepping out into the sun for the first time in over a week, Arthur shut his eyes as reflex against the sun's brightness. The old fort was quite dim so it wasn't quite a surprise that the noon-day sun hurt his eyes. He stood a peaceful moment and let his body soak up the warmth and light of the sun. Trapped inside the walls of his aunt and uncle's home, Arthur had missed the out of doors. His earliest success had come in the fields and he'd grown to love the outdoors as part of that. Seeing the outer world through the narrow windows of the fort was no substitute for standing in the warm summer sun while an afternoon breeze caressed one's skin and ruffled the hair.

He wore only his tunic and breeches, both scrubbed clean shortly after his arrival. His uncle had also given him some of his own clothing to wear so he was not daily in and out of the same garments. Arthur drew in a deep breath and held it for a moment noting, the scent of pine, the sweet fragrances of a garden, and the faint smells of livestock not so very far off. The sun's light did reach him through his closed lids, making squiggles dance before his eyes. Arthur ducked his head and cracked his eyes open. The light did not seem too strong now and he opened them fully.

"Are you well? Do you need to go back inside?" Drystan asked him wide-eyed with concern.

"He's been inside too long," Aikat said.

"Oh." The boy smiled. "You should see the garden. We have a bird bath, and the birds sing and play, and sometimes they fight."

"You'll have to show me," he said.

Drystan took his hand and tugged him toward the garden. Thinking of Grigor's sons Enfys and Gerault, Arthur let himself be pulled toward the garden, which like most great homes had flower beds and short flowering trees that ran along the front of the building and around the sides.

His aunt and uncle's home sat in the center of a field. The heavy gray stones of the old fort still stood in the center of the building with the narrow windows and turrets common to an old military building. They had however added extensions not quite large enough to be called wings that had walls of yellow plaster supported with bright blue timber. He smiled at the incongruous combination of colors and materials.

Arthur let Drystan and Aikat show him the pleasure garden and stone birdbath. He then followed them around to the back of the house There was a fenced training yard with a practice dummy and its own shed, a vegetable garden, chicken coop and goat pen. As they made their way around the house Arthur noticed a wall of mostly fir trees on the edge of the field that proved to go all the way around. In fact when they came back to the front he studied the wall and saw no break in it. It seemed a lot for a family of five to care for and he wondered if magic helped them somehow.

"Be careful of the tree wall," Aikat said noticing his interest. "It's keyed to us and you can't cross it without one of us."

Arthur swallowed. Was he a prisoner?

"Anyone of us will take you anytime you like, but we have to be careful. Surely you understand?" Her green eyes narrowed as she watched him.

He thought about it for a moment. He certainly would not give a magic user keys to the palace gates. His aunt and uncle had more reason than he to be cautious. Magic use was still a death sentence in Camelot.

"I understand," he said at last and Drystan, who had been looking up at him with worry, started to smile.

"I can take you across," the boy volunteered. Aikat smiled then and waggled her eyebrows in a way as to suggest this was an experience not to be missed. Drystan took his hand and Arthur followed his cousins to the wall.

"Close your eyes," the boy said. "It won't work if you don't."

"Very well." Arthur shut his eyes and let his cousin pull him forward. There was nothing for a moment, just a brush of needles against his skin and then a sense of something old and wise, but very curious brushing against him even as the pine needles brushed his skin. In the next moment the warmth of the sun disappeared, along with that sense of otherness and he felt the coolness of a dim forest in the afternoon. He opened his eyes and they were standing in the woods.

"What?"

"Tree spirits." Aikat said with a grin that matched her younger brother's.

"Tree spirits?"

They nodded.

"Dad says talking to spirits is not true magic, but knowing how to listen to the world."

Arthur frowned. However one listened to spirits, he had no idea. He looked back at the trees, dense and silent and old. From this side he saw only a copse of pines tightly packed to cross. They were good camouflage.

"Should we continue?"

So far he felt neither trembling nor heaviness, though he had expected to feel one or the other or both by now.

"We should go, Arthur," Drystan said tugging his hand. "I want to show you the old temple."

"Drystan," Aikat said. "I don't think we'll walk that far today."

"Oh," the boy poked out his lips.

"Maybe just a little ways into the woods," Arthur said, not yet ready to return to the house.

"Let us go then."

She asked him questions as they walked. She wanted to know still more about Camelot and the knights. What were tournaments like? How long did the knights train daily? Was it true that Camelot's knights were the best?

He answered her questions as best he could, but soon his mind began to wander. Gwaine, Percival, Merlin, Leon, Bedivere, all of his men…what were they doing?

There was little that compared to a walk or a ride in the woods. Whether alone, or in the company of his men, there were very few other times, or places, that made him feel more confident. But thinking about his men and quests, he began to think of Merlin and Elyan.

Elyan had been gone for nearly as long as Guinevere now. Did he still believe Gwen to be dead or was he searching for her somewhere? And what of Merlin?

His cousins continued chatting with one and other.

Was Merlin waiting for him somewhere near Morgana's abandoned home or searching for him? Or had Merlin left him? He thought of his last angry words to Merlin and could not bring himself to fault the other man if he had left. He had always teased Merlin, even bullied him a bit, but he never pushed the manservant, never threatened him.

He'd been enraged then not because of the magic, but the secrets. Merlin had known Lancelot was a shade, Merlin had known that Morgana hid a mere day's ride from the palace, Merlin had known the truth of his mother's death, had known of Morgana's magic and her accompanying loneliness, long before the rest of them. _How many other secrets had the sorcerer kept?_

He ground his teeth and swore. His cousins looked at him with wide eyes.

"Perhaps we should start back." Aikat said.

"But I wanna show you the ruins," Drystan complained.

"No, if Arthur needs to head back we'll head back," Aikat insisted.

"There'll be time, Drystan," Arthur said, not so sure of that himself.

* * *

><p>On another warm afternoon a few days later they had walked a bit farther than usual and took a short rest beside a placid pond. It was Drystan's favorite spot. The boy stripped and immediately waded into the water. Aikat however crouched at the edge of the pond and toyed with the cattails growing there.<p>

"Aikat, you and I are alike, I think."

She smiled.

"Yes, I always wanted cousins or a brother or sister that enjoyed sword play as much as I did." She sat down, legs extended in front of her, palms flat on the ground behind her.

"Drystan doesn't seem the magic wielding type."

"No, but he plays at it far more than the sword."

Arthur reflected on that.

"Yes, I suppose you're right." Arthur sat down now. "Not having magic—does that make you nervous?"

"No, why would it?" she asked and then frowned. "I trust my family."

"Of course you do, though our family has plenty of traitors in it," Arthur murmured.

"Pardon?"

"Nevermind that. Your family loves you, they are trustworthy, but what about other magic users, friends of your father, people he associates with; they don't concern you at all? How can you be sure they are trustworthy?"

She looked at the pond and he did as well. Drystan was swimming and diving with glee, upsetting its placid surface.

"How can we be sure you're trustworthy?" She looked at him then green eyes so bright and intense, he thought of Morgana. "You could stab us in our sleep."

"But I'm not."

"Of course not. We've taken care of you, fed you, clothed you and looked after you. You've nothing to gain from stabbing us in our sleep."

Arthur felt the beginnings of a smile.

"You're very clever Aikat."

"Thank you." She smiled back. "We'll see how you feel about my cleverness tomorrow morning."

Arthur snorted. "I'm not concerned. I've been trained to kill since I was four-years-old."

"Perhaps, but I am sure I know a thing or two you don't."

"Aikat, look what I can do!" Drystan called for his sister's attention and they both looked in his direction.

The boy dove smoothly and cleanly and resurfaced spitting water like a fountain. Aikat applauded and something else occurred to him. They had fed and clothed Morgana and somehow that had not been enough. Merlin had meant him no harm and yet he had caused plenty of it.

Arthur reached for Gwen's ring. It was not so simple as his sixteen-year-old cousin thought.

* * *

><p>He should have been concerned.<p>

Aikat was fit and healthy and eager for a sparring partner. Knowing that Arthur's weakness was his lack of stamina and her strength was her speed, Aikat wore him down. She dodged and feinted and lured him in and charged, but always kept out of reach. It was the same thing he might have done with a much larger opponent. Given that he was still convalescent and she was healthy Arthur decided that he was allowed to fight dirty.

He took a few steps backwards and let himself sway from side to side while shaking his head as if to clear stars from his eyes.

"Are you unwell?' Aikat lowered her guard and approached him.

"I-I-," Arthur muttered, his free hand to his eyes. "I-" she needed to come closer.

"Arthur?"

She walked right into his grasp. In one smooth motion he had his arm locked securely about her waist, her arms pinned to her sides, and the practice blade at her throat.

"Cheater," she pouted.

"Bah! you're nearly ten years younger than me and full of health and vigor. Now yield."

"Yield," the girl said. The sound of defeat in her tone.

Arthur let her go and she glared at him.

"I promise you, cousin, anytime you meet an opponent at least ten years your senior they're going to play on it."

"Your cousin speaks nothing but the truth," Ambrose said. He'd sat silently on the sides while they sparred.

"You don't cheat."

"I'm your father and perhaps I should," Ambrose smiled, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.

Aikat groaned and Arthur laughed.

"How are you feeling, Arthur?"

He took a long deep breath. He'd felt strong at the start of this session, but already that bone-deep weariness was asserting itself.

"I think I am done for the day." Arthur sat down on the bench near the fence.

"Very well then. Aikat, you and I."

Thinking of the days when he and his father had sparred together, Arthur watched the two of them with a smile.

* * *

><p>Each day Arthur felt stronger and more rested, and even an occasional moment of real happiness. He and Aikat trained several times a week though not daily as he had once. After training he rested and helped with chores. He tried to help Ambrose with some of the more labor intensive chores around the house like repairing damaged beams, but training with Aikat was still too draining for that work.<p>

In the afternoon lull between chores and supper he watched Drystan try to coax Ismene into playing with him and ignoring her books.

He also enjoyed keeping Rhosyn and baby Nerys company. The baby was just beginning to crawl and when she got over her initial suspicion of him she made eager pursuit of his attention. Nerys demanded, after the way of a babe just eight months old that he play with her, pick her up, carry her about, and when he wasn't doing those thing she would sit on the floor gumming his bare feet. He didn't mind any of it, though he left her diapering to her parents.

* * *

><p>His uncle had predicted his strength would return at a good speed. At the end of one week since getting out of bed, he was starting to feel hopeful. At the end of two weeks, all his trembling stopped. At the end of a third week of training with his cousin, Arthur began to feel impatient.<p>

"Perhaps now is a good time for me to start back." Arthur said to Ambrose.

The older man's eyebrows drew together as he studied him. They were sitting on the bench in the main room. Arthur no longer found the hardback to be a great discomfort. Rhosyn and the children were in another area of the house working on some project.

"You want to start back now?"

"Yes. The trembling has stopped, and I'm no longer feeling worn-out after exercising."

"Yes, and you are still spending half of your day asleep. How are your reflexes?"

"Hmm?"

Ambrose tossed a leather ball at him. Arthur got his hands up into to catch it, but the ball fumbled out of his grasp.

"That wouldn't have happened before, would it?"

"No," Arthur admitted.

"Your body needs more time to recover."

"But uncle, I'll take it easy when I return to Camelot. I won't wear myself down."

"Arthur, did you know that there are charms in the room you sleep in?"

He froze.

"No."

"There is magic built into every wooden beam, every stone, and every inch of plaster that Rhosyn and I added to this house. Nothing sinister, but-" his uncle studied him a moment as if choosing the best words to explain. "You were having nightmares, not sleeping, no appetite, all from stress right?"

Arthur nodded.

"And grieving your father intensely?"

"Yes." _And Guinevere. _He thought of what Merlin had confirmed about his father, he wondered if he would grieve him much in the future.

"Does it paralyze you to think of your father or lost loved ones now?"

Arthur thought about his father, recalled a moment when the other had spoken of him with pride. He summoned to mind the words Guinevere had spoken to him when he'd lay fevered with the questing beast poison or the conversation he'd had with Guinevere before he'd departed Camelot with the knights planning to sacrifice his own life to seal the rift Morgana had opened between the worlds.

"_Do you remember the first time that I kissed you?" Remembering that moment always made him smile, surely she felt the same. A moment later she'd smiled in spite of herself._

"Arthur? You seemed to have recalled something pleasant." His uncle smiled a smile of self-satisfaction.

Arthur looked away from his uncle, focused on his thoughts, on his uncle, on the moment, on what he felt...

There was an ache with these happy thoughts, but the crushing well of loneliness that had accompanied them before did not rise.

"Thinking of my father of others I have lost is not paralyzing me now," he replied. "I- I still grieve them, but it is tolerable. I can even enjoy remembering them. I could not do that before."

"It is the combination of magic in the house and having family around you. The magic encourages warmth and wellbeing. Problems cease to be overwhelming and become challenges to be met. As for your family," Ambrose smiled, "you've fit in with us better than I expected; it is easy for you to feel safe with us, in spite of everything."

"So when I leave, I shall be as unhappy as I was before." Arthur felt a sudden prickle of fear.

"Perhaps, perhaps not. Grief is an ache that only time can ease. Living under the pleasant influence of certain types of magic is enough to lessen the sting for some, but not for others."

"I see," Arthur's voice was soft as he spoke. He thought of all those terrible mornings when he woke exhausted, the nights when his dreams were a torment. He had to go back to Camelot, deal with Morgana, find Guinevere, but-

"But uncle, I was- I was-" he couldn't quite bring himself to admit the weakness.

"I know, Arthur." There was sympathy in his uncle's eyes and he gave his arm a gentle squeeze.

"But I can't stay here."

"I know Arthur. That's why you must be fully rested and restored before you leave."

Arthur nodded. When he left he would resume the mantle of kingship, but with it he would also resume the crushing weight of his grief.

* * *

><p>Fireflies lit up the late summer evening. Their dance was a thick, shimmering cloud of warm green that hovered just above the calf-height grass. They filled the open field in front the fort, to the point that while sitting Arthur's sight could not penetrate their dance. He had to stand to see the other side of the field.<p>

A mild evening breeze stirred the leaves of the trees and Arthur sat down on the ground. He sat his mug of ale down beside him and leaned back on his elbows. There was more than a shimmering cloud of fireflies to delight the sight tonight. The moon was out in all her glory casting a cool blue-tinged white light over everything.

He had shared a similar night with Guinevere, Merlin and Morgana when they'd returned from Ealdor5 flushed and excited with victory, as well as the fact that they had succeeded in slipping Uther's leash. They'd made a small fire to warm dinner, Merlin and Guinevere waiting on he and Morgana. From time-to-time his eyes would steal swift glances at Gwen. He'd found himself thinking of her often since she'd snuck into his cell to carry the flower that would save Merlin's life to Gaius. 6

More than once he'd compared her to a rabbit or doe in his mind, cute and sweet, but now he found his eyes dropping to her full round rear, so perfectly outlined by her trousers. She should wear pants more often. He hadn't noticed Merlin settling on the log beside him.

"Something got your eye?" Merlin had asked in a soft whisper that did not carry to the other side of the fire.

Caught, Arthur had glared and taken the plate of pheasant and mixed greens from his servant.

"Shut-up, Merlin," he'd said, voice sharp; his interest in Guinevere was his own, was private.

Morgana had looked up just in time to see that Gwen had a plate of food as well.

"Thank you, Gwen," she had said taking the plate before turning her attention back to Arthur. "Still picking on Merlin. I thought victory put you in a good mood, Arthur?" Morgana asked, tone light.

"It does. Merlin's face puts me in a foul one." Morgana had laughed as had Guinevere. Though he suspected now that Gwen's laughter had been feigned, polite, the appropriate thing to do when a master made a joke in the presence of his servant, even if when at the servant's expense.

Later he'd stolen a glance at her and had been a bit surprised to find her watching him, expression thoughtful and perhaps annoyed. In the past few days he'd seen that the doe had the same steel a stag. An untested, uncertain steel, but present nonetheless.

The cheerful mood of victory had returned as they'd eaten and told tales of the battle while fireflies danced in the moonlight.

A thud came from his aunt and uncle's house, startling him out of his memories. He heard laughter and another thud and he smiled, his cousins often rough-housed in the evening. They tried to entice him into joining them when they played, but always he declined. Watching them made him feel old.

Arthur shook his head and his mind wandered to his current worries as his eyes skimmed the fireflies. _Was Guinvere alive? What should he do about Merlin? What if he never saw either of them again? What of Morgana? _He had determined to kill her, but now he was uncertain.

Morgana had done them harm, damage. If he somehow found Guinevere alive he could not bring her back to danger. He had thought Morgana was lost to them, but after his conversations with Merlin he was no longer sure. Was it possible to reach her? To take away the isolation Merlin claimed drove her to turn against them. Or would she have betrayed them even if magic had not been banished?

"Your thoughts look sour, nephew mine."

Arthur sighed.

"Merlin and I were on a quest to kill someone."

"Who?"

Arthur looked at his uncle. The other man seemed to respect his authority as king.

"Morgana."

"Just the two of you?"

"I had weapons that I believed would work."

"What happened?"

"She was gone," Arthur frowned.

The moments just before the elf-stroke were still hazy. All he could recall was being enraged. Enraged at Morgana, enraged at Merlin.

"You are doubting your quest?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"For a long while I thought we might reach Morgana somehow. At first I thought perhaps Morgause had ensnared her and if we could just find her, bring her home-" Arthur shook his head. "She harmed someone who had been very close to her, manipulated and humiliated and perhaps even caused that person's death. And this was to someone that showed her nothing, but love and kindness. Someone who had done her no harm, was no danger, no threat. If she had targeted me-" Arthur sighed now. "If she could throw away people that she loved and cared for then I thought there would be no reaching her, no bringing her home."

He looked at his uncle now.

"I didn't know she was my sister. I didn't know she'd had magic thrust upon her whether she wanted it or no. I didn't know she felt so hurt, sad, and alone. And-" he paused a moment. When his father had banished magic, he had banished his brother. A brother who seemed to harbor no ill will toward Uther. "How could my father do that to his own brother?"

Arthur saw the faintest curve of sad smile on Ambrose's face.

"How could my brother do so many terrible things? The man your father grew into was not the little boy I thought I knew. Sometimes I think he outlawed magic to spite me after I left."

"Why did you leave?"

Ambrose sighed.

"Do you know how your mother died?"

"Yes my father had to sacrifice a woman of royal blood to ensure the birth of a son."

"I was a friend of the DuBois household. I saved your maternal great-grandfather's life. So when it was time to arrange the marriage, your father asked me to do so." He shook his head. "I did not know what my brother planned. I did not know until after you were born. I did the only thing I could think to do at the time. I withdrew my support of his kingship and retired here."

"Do you-" Arthur meet the other's man's eyes. "Do you think you should have opposed him?"

"Yes." Ambrose answered with such firmness that Arthur knew he'd given this much thought.

"Much suffering, even yours would have been prevented, and I would have spared you. Raised you alongside Aikat and the others."

Arthur let his eyes follow the whirling dance of the fireflies.

"You will set Aikat to oppose me if I continue the persecution of magic, won't you?"

Ambrose didn't say anything, yet he didn't have to.

"Aikat does not yet know of her heritage, she has no greater ambition than knighthood for now. Make magic legal and you'll have my support, Rhosyn's, Aikat's and all of our allies. I've had seventeen years to put this plan together, nephew mine. It was to be Uther we opposed, but if you persecute magic we will oppose you."

"Why-" Arthur swallowed. "Why didn't you kill me when you had the chance?"

"I wanted you to know there was another path. Uther raised you to hate and fear blindly. I wanted your eyes open, because you have a choice. It may not seem so when we've been doing things one way for so long, but in life there is always another choice."

In that moment he thought of Gwen saying almost the same thing to him as she pleaded with him to save the lives of Morgana, Merlin, and Gaius. The irony, and yet he could not convince himself to kill someone simply for having magic. He had never believed that the mere knowledge of magic should mean a death sentence.

Ambrose got to his feet and turned to go inside.

"Wait."

The older man stopped, looked down at him.

"Thank you, uncle."

Surprised flitted across the older man's face.

"You are near fully recovered. The road home is that way." Ambrose pointed north. "If you would choose to follow your father's path take it, the trees will part for you. We will not of course be here when you return with your knights. If you come back inside, though, you are choosing a new day for Camelot and we shall be your most fierce and loyal allies."

Ambrose gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"I have enjoyed having you as a guest these three weeks Arthur. I hope that they continue."

Arthur did not take his eyes from the road. He heard Ambrose's steps moving away. Heard the door to the house open and shut.

He stared down the road. He had all the facts now. He knew of his father's hypocrisy, knew the dangers, knew the benefits.

If Merlin had served him openly he could have come to him the moment he knew the shade's true nature. Guinevere would have been protected and she might yet be with him now. Magic had destroyed them, but it could have also saved them.

And what of the magic his aunt and uncle had used in his care. How many people suffered needlessly for its want?

He thought of his mother, his beautiful mother standing before him telling him the truth of her death. He remembered the clarity he'd taken from that moment. The truth now was no different than it had been nearly four years ago. His father had not outlawed magic because of its danger; he had outlawed it because of his own hypocrisy, to cover his crimes, to spite his brother even.

Arthur took a breath and got to his feet. Touched Guinevere's ring to his lips and then he walked into the house.

* * *

><p><strong>AN-** 1 s3/ep8 The Eye of the Phoenix

2 chewing a blade of mint grass was a bit like brushing with mint toothpaste. the mint provides astrigent affects to kill an overgrowth of bacteria that can occur in the mouth.

3 medieval term for stroke. Arthur is not suffering an actual stroke, he is suffering a mini-stroke, this can happen sometimes to otherwise healthy people who endure prolonged periods of emotional and physical stress

4 I know I've added a lot of OCs to this story, but Ambrosius Aurelias is one of many characters from the legends not included in BBC's Merlin. He is always Uther's brother, sometimes he is a warrior other times he is a sorcerer and known as Merlin Ambrose or the first Merlin. In The Exile he is a bit of both.

5 s1/ep10 The Truth Be Told

6 s1/ep4 The Poisoned Chalice

So I know it seems like the last Arthur chapter was a very long time ago... *sings* _"Been a long time, shouldna left you, without a dope beat to step to." _Sorry Aliyahh has been on my mind lately. I'm pretty excited for this chapter. Gwen is my favorite, but Arthur deserved so much more from the storyline set-up for him and I'm really enjoying writing a character arc where he actually grows and evolves. :) Hope you guys enjoyed it.

Before we go I have another little story for you. :)

**Arthur vs. The Sequester Beast, aka Gwen Breaks the Fourth Wall for a Little Fundraising**

"Arthur."

He could not see Guinevere, but her voice came to him clearly.

"The sequester is coming." Wherever he was her voice seemed to echo around him.

"Seque- I already faced the questing beast."

"No sequester. Our stories are in danger of being left unfinished."

"Our stories?" Arthur frowned confused why was Guinevere hiding from him.

"Yes our stories. The sequester threatens god's power (the author's electricity)."

"God's power can't be threatened (but the author's can)."

"You have to stop the sequester at gofundmedotcom/Alias. Hurry Arthur, hurry before its too late." She sounded far away as if her voice were fading.

"But wait Guinevere why can't see you? When will I see you again?"

"I'm sorry Arthur, but I've broken the fourth wall long enough."

Arthur stirred in his sleep, muttering, "Sequester beast."

"Shhh," Ambrose hushed his nephew. " There's no such thing as an equestrian beast its just a bad dream."

* * *

><p>doesn't do links so just replace dot with a .' I really do need your help if I'm going to keep publishing The Exile. While I have raised enough funds to pay my rent on time I've got a bit of a tough road ahead for a while. Shanel found a job, but as with a new job it will take some time before any money comes in and I'm still looking for work. In the meanwhile rent,utilities and internet have to be paid. The fundraiser is onging so any amount helps. If you can't donate signal boost whatever ways you can.<p> 


	29. chapter 29: Dr Gwen, Medicine Woman

_**Previously In The Exile**_was a really long ago and I'm really, really sorry. Life just got too real. Anyway things are more settled and I hope you guys will continue this journey me. Please share with your friends, thank you for all your support and reviews. _Now **Previously in The Exile:**_

"Do you-" Arthur meet the other's man's eyes. "Do you think you should have opposed him?"

"Yes." Ambrose answered with such firmness that Arthur knew he'd given this much thought.

"Much suffering, even yours would have been prevented and I would have spared you, raised you alongside Aikat and the others."

Arthur let his eyes follow the whirling dance of the fireflies.

"You will set Aikat to oppose me if I continue the persecution of magic won't you?"

Ambrose didn't say anything, yet he didn't have to.

"Deal firmly with Morgana," Ambrose said. "Aikat does not yet know of her heritage, she has no greater ambition than knighthood for now. Make magic legal and you'll have my support, Rhosyn's, Aikat's and all of our allies. I've had seventeen years to put this plan together nephew mine. It was to be Uther we opposed, but if you persecute magic we will oppose you." ..._**Chapter 28 Dance of the Fireflies**_

"But mom are you- are you turning against me?"

"Merlin," for a moment her eyes softened. "if you think that your decisions have been on the side of right then I don't have to turn against you, we were never on the same side."

Merlin felt his stomach bottom out and his throat tightened. He looked down, no longer able to face her. After a moment he heard her steps moving away from him and the thud of the door shutting.

When he looked up it was to see the setting sun out the window, it painted the sky and clouds brilliant hues of fire before dropping below the horizon. The stars came out, the moon rose. He thought about lighting the lantern and tried and failed. He concentrated reciting the simple spell perfectly and nothing happened. He did it again no power stirred, there was nothing. He did it a fourth time, fifth time and still nothing. He tried the first magic he understood. Moving objects with his mind, he couldn't so much as lift a pin. Sitting alone in the dark Merlin realized Lord Troy was right. His magic was dead, this was fate's reaction..._**Chapter 27 Fate's Reaction**_

"Ms. Jen, Father Flaejer wanted to tell you himself, but I asked for the honor. You, Jenafere, are Wyeledon Hostel's newest physician assistant." Ms. Alfonsa passed her a letter bearing the hostel's seal even as Luisa poured them goblets of wine and her friends broke out into applause.

Gwen broke the red waxen seal and started reading aloud.

"I start in 12 days time, in that time I should get two white canvass smocks and a linen cap to match and—I got the job!" Gwen exclaimed, jumping to her feet.

She looked up from the letter and saw everyone smiling at her...**_Chapter 26 A Perfect Fit_**

* * *

><p><span><strong>Dr. Gwen, Medicine Woman<strong>

Wind blew through the second story windows of the townhouse, warm with summer heat, and heavy with the tang of ocean salt. Sweet, warm ocean zephyrs entered through open windows, soothing skin dampened by humidity. Swirling through the townhouse, tugging on hair,pulling on the light weight cotton of kirtles and dresses, tipping over ribbon stands, unlit candles, pulling at scarves, and shawls and turning up the edges of bedding. It was mid-summer in Wyeledon.

Guinevere pinned a windswept curl into place and began coiling her waist length braid oton the back of her head. Both Ylsa and Pradeep had made clear the importance of covering the head when working with medicine, food, or anything to be consumed by the sick. If he asked her to prepare any medicines she wanted to be ready.

"Ylsa how is my hair?"

The midwife gave her a quick appraising glance and smiled.

"Not a curl out of place. You look perfect."

"Thank you," Gwen said uncertain of her feelings about this new severe look.

"But it makes you look old," Kerenza remarked giving voice to Gwen's thoughts.

Gwen frowned poking her lips forward.

"Older physicians are far more respected than younger ones." Ylsa quipped as she tied a ribbon around her twist.

"I think its nice," Synove said tone thoughtful. "Let us see you with the cap and the physician's smock."

Gwen pulled the loose fitted physician's smock on over her dress and then fitted the matching cap over head.

"Mhmmm, yes" the bard said. "You look very serious. If you told me to drink something hideous and foul tasting I would do it." Synove ended with a smile and a nod.

Ylsa and Kerenza giggled.

"Synove has the right of it," Kerenza said. "I would take any medicine you told me to drink."

"Have a look at yourself," Synove said handing Gwen her polished bronze hand mirror.

Guinevere looked at her reflection and a grin broke out over face.

She schooled her expression into one of seriousness and saw not harshness, but formality, assurance, competence, and confidence, serious dark eyes that might even command a king to take his medicine. But delight and pleasure won out again as a grin emerged to capture her face.

"Good lord look at her."

Guinevere started sheepishly perhaps she had been gazing a little too long.

"Giving her the mirror was a mistake," Kerenza shook her head and walked out of the room

"You look perfect," Ylsa said. "Now come along or you'll be late."

She gave her reflection one last smile before giving the mirror back to Synove and heading down to breakfast.

At breakfast Ms. Alfonsa announced a party they were having for the Hospice patrons. She expected Gwen's attendance and offered her a dress to refashion. The morning chatter and breakfast activity went as it usually did. When their fast was broke rather then staring at her empty plate, Guinevere was grabbing her lunch and summer cape with the rest of her housemates and heading out the door.

* * *

><p>"You know Ylsa I have to thank you for your good counsel."<p>

"I am certain my advice was perfect, but what was it?" The midwife released her arm to drop a coin in the cup of a beggar.

"You advised me not to take the maid job, don't you remember."

"Oh yes you're much too smart to be a maid," Ylsa said shaking her head.

"I don't know if should be complimented or insulted." Guinevere looked askance at her friend. "I worked as a lady's maid for many years and it does require a certain intelligence." Gwen sniffed as she finished.

"Well let me put it this way, your intelligence is wasted cleaning up behind a bunch of people who think they are too good to do it themselves, simply because they were lucky enough to be born into families with wealth and titles," Ylsa rolled her eyes.

Gwen pursed her lips, thinking of how kind a mistress Morgana had been in those early years, but even then the noblewoman had deemed some tasks beneath her and later….

"There is no difference betwixt anyone of us, inside or out. I know, I've looked." The midwife said this with a firmness that Gwen could not bring herself to challenge if she wanted.

"When I was a child I heard so much about how special my heritage was and the heritage of the noble families we served, but no matter how much I looked I could find no difference between myself and the poorest, most ignorant, farmer." Ylsa shook her head. "No difference between an infant born to the highest most refined queen or the lowliest scullery maid. The difference comes in what happens after," Ylsa finished.

The two women walked in silence for a while. There were more people in the streets now, some moving at a more leisurely pace.

"Ylsa is there some, something with Synove and Adras," Gwen asked recalling the way Synove had asked about Adras after Ms. Alfonsa had announced the party.

"Why do you ask?" The midwife questioned in return.

"Well Synove is always interested in everything Adras does, but when I had to go with Adras to the fabric market she refused to accompany us, it seemed strange."

"Hmmm well," Ylsa looked thoughtful for a moment. "It happened when Synove first came to Wyeledon. She was delivered to Ms. Alfonsa's by her brother. She came from a distant country nobility. Though she was excited to come here she was not at all," Ylsa paused considering her next word. "She was not worldly. Ms. Alfonsa arranged a position for Synove at Adras' salon. They became very chummy at first and then suddenly they would not speak with one and other. After that Synove got a new position and criticized Adras' unorthodox and mannish lifestyle almost constantly for about the better of a year, and then just as suddenly stopped talking about her altogether."

"Oh did they…"

"I assume so. I've only ever seen Synove with female companions, not like Adras mind you, more delicate types like yourself."

Gwen felt her face grow hot, but Ylsa went on.

"That was perhaps two years ago. I think there was some falling out about Adras' lifestyle and now maybe she regrets it. But Adras won't give her a second look."

"Oh."

Gwen remembered Synove's prudish response to Gwen asking about Adras when she'd first arrived in Wyeledon.

The two women rounded a corner and the townhouses and gave way to one and two story peasant homes with little family shops like candlers and cobblers and old churches. The hospice wasn't far now, just moments way.

"This is where we separate my friend." Ylsa said. "You are going to do excellently."

The two women shared a hug and Gwen felt a stirring of unhappiness akin to how she felt whenever Elyan would walk with her to the palace for work. He would give her a hug, a tight squeeze, and then head off down the stairs.

"Thank you Ylsa."

"You're welcome Gwen." Ylsa crossed the street and soon disappeared into the crowd.

When she was gone Guinevere took a deep breath. This was no palace position, serving at the beck and call of every nose-in-the-air noble who might cross her path. This was work that she had studied and fought for and she was ready. Mimicking the determined stride of the palace noble women when they wanted something Guinevere headed to work.

Gwen knocked lightly on the door as she poked her head into Pradeep's office.

"And here is the woman of the hour, Ms. Jenafere," Physician Pradeep, dark hair covered by a cap akin to her own, looked up from his mortar and pestle. "Please come in."

"Physician Pradeep, Nurse Owena good morning."

The head nursed nodded a greeting.

"Good morning, have a seat Ms. Jenafere," Pradeep said and motioned toward the chair beside Owena.

She entered, but he stopped her before she could sit and studied her appearance for a moment before nodding.

"Your robe and cap look good. Let me see the back of your head for a moment."

Pleased that she had anticipated this Gwen did as asked.

"Good, very good. Please sit down."

Gwen did as he asked.

"Ms. Ylsa has waxed on and on about the importance of securing and covering the hair while preparing treatments," Owena explained, the head nurse's pale blond hair was also covered.

"I do live with her," Gwen said with a wink and both laughed.

As always the strong scent of clove and watermint hung in the air, but here it mingled with the ever-present earthy scent of a garden after rainfall, that Pradeep's many plants created. Gwen took a deep breath enjoying the blend of fragrances, the air redolent with an unfamiliar invigorating scent that she thought must come from whatever the physician was mixing.

"So Ms. Jenafere you are already familiar with the routine here," Pradeep said turning his eyes back to the treatment he was preparing. "While I visit our patients Nurse Owena will be getting you settled tomorrow you will accompany me on my rounds."

Owena gave her a small nod.

"When she has done with that she will bring you to the reception room and our work will begin."

"I am most eager to start."

"Very well," Owena said. "Let us begin now." The other woman stood and Gwen did the same.

"These are your keys," Owena handed her a large key ring with several keys of dark, cast iron, each the length of her finger, and they headed out of Pradeep's office.

* * *

><p>The keys were cold and heavy in her hands. Gwen let her fingers trace the iron loops, and edges and Owena explained them as they walked. There were five keys on the ring, each marked with thick heavy threads of different colors. Two were keys to hospice doors front and back, one for medicines like brandy and dwale*, another for the surgery, and the hospice still.<p>

When Arthur had been prince he had held the keys to the palace and all their important secrets. Now she would bear a similar responsibility

"We shall test the keys as we go," Owena said when they reached the first floor.

Owena took her to the few rooms she had never been in; they started with a little room off the kitchen, where hospice staff stored their belongings in assigned cabinets. Like Pradeep, Owena, and Mary, Gwen was given a full length cabinet, though she would have to provide her own lock if she wanted it.

"Did you bring your lunch?"

Gwen nodded.

Owena looked thoughtful for a moment as the sound of plates and pots clanging against tables and counters came from the kitchen.

"They are late serving breakfast." The larger woman muttered and then sighed. "The still is on the other side of the kitchen, but I think we'd just be in the way in there now. Hopefully by the time I've shown you the surgery they will have finished serving breakfast."

Gwen nodded more than a little curious about the hospice surgery. Typically surgery was the domain of barbers while physicians were left to their medicines. The two worked together sometimes with physicians providing medicines after surgery, but a physician who performed surgery was an uncommon thing. Thankfully she had never yet had a need of surgery, dentistry, nor even seen the inside of a barber's shop.

The stories she'd heard of the bleeding, cutting, and sawing, soured and twisted her stomach. Gwen couldn't imagine a physician like Gaius or herself doing such a thing.

Owena lead her down another of the hospice's wood paneled corridors to a pair of heavy looking locked doors.

"We are still in the back of the hospice," Owena said. "This is directly beneath Physician Pradeep's office."

"Oh, why is it so far from everything else?"

"Surgical instruments are expensive they are safe from vandals back here."

"Oh." Gwen said wondering how great a concern that was.

"Test your key, it's the red one," Owena said.

She did as the head nurse said, jiggling the key a moment before the lock shifted. The large heavy doors opened slowly, the familiar clove-watermint fragrance wafting out as the doors opened, as strong as she had ever smelled it. Gwen peered into the dark room feeling for a moment as if she were peering into a pit, but then her eyes adjusted and she made out the outline of a few humps in the darks. Owena however seemed to know the place well.

She went to a corner, pulled a cord and drew the curtains.

Late morning summer sun light poured into the western windows of the room illuminating a long table with straps, the wooden system of slats, pulleys and ropes. She could see where one might place an arm or a leg while the surgeon turned the pulleys tightening the slats around the broken limb to keep a patient in traction while the plaster packed around their injury hardened.

"Is it very painful?" Guinevere asked resting one hand on the operating table and imaging patient having to be strapped down.

"Bone setting is not so bad, but an amputation…the screams," Owena sucked her breath and shook her head.

"But how is it that Pradeep even performs surgery?"

"It is unusual, but after introducing Ylsa's cleaning practices our outcomes are simply better," the other woman smiled.

"But surely Physician Pradeep has trouble with the barbers* in the city," Gwen asked?

"He did until the previous winter." The other woman paused letting that mysterious bit of information hang in the air betwixt them.

"What happened?"

"I suppose it is a harmless bit of gossip," she smiled again. "It was not an actual surgery. A carpenter came to us after seeing Barber Bertmund. Barber Bertmund had recommended amputation for a broken finger that had not been set right away and showed signs of infection. The man was carpenter losing the finer would mean he no longer had work, income so he came here." Owena sighed. "Pradeep reset the finger _and_ cleared up the infection." Here the other woman paused her pale eyes bright with good humor. "I think normally Pradeep might have recommended amputation too, but there had been lots of angry barbers knocking on the door of late and he wanted to make a point."

"The patient could very well have lost the entire hand and he spent a great many days in pain, but the finger was saved and set so well it was almost as if the break never happened. The barber who'd recommended the amputation was of course angered and he actually challenged Pradeep to a fight."

Gwen felt her eyes widen. Professional rivalry could be serious, but if it came to violence it usually resulted in alleyway knifings or quick beatings, open challenges were rare.

"Well it was an embarrassment for him," Owena said tone sympathetic. "More embarrassment was yet to come. Pradeep nicked a major artery during their duel and then stitched him up in this surgery."

"Oh no!"

"Oh yes!" Owena's eyes brightened again. "No infection resulted, the arm works as well as it ever did."

"So what happened after that?"

"Sufficiently humbled Barber Bertmund hired a young woman to clean up his shop, and sent her here to be trained. I hear that they are married now." Owena said offhandedly and Gwen chuckled.

"I suppose it all came to the best then."

"Indeed. You will learn how to use the tools here in time, but for the moment you need only know that we can set broken limbs, do trepanning for head wounds, amputations if necessary, and in some cases remove the appendix or gallstones."

"Remove organs?"

"Sometimes organs can become infected just as a hand or a foot, if the infection spreads from the organ to the blood the outcome is surely death."

She felt gooseflesh rise on her arms.

"They should be done serving breakfast now. Let us put away your lunch, and I'll show you the still."

In the kitchen they found a slight young man with dark blonde hair and a beard all in braids.

"A Viking?" Gwen whispered to Owena.

"I am," the young man looked up from his work and flashed her a smile, spirit and liveliness in his gray eyes.

Gwen couldn't help, but smile back. Viking men she understood were very charming.*

"This is Hotjor, one of the new porters. Hotjor this is Ms. Jenafere, the new Physician Assistant, she is ranked only by Physician Pradeep and myself."

"A pleasure to meet you Ms. Jenafere," the porter inclined his head, but continued washing dishes.

"Hotjor, where is Issac?"

"He is feeding Mr. Amaury and Mrs. Sabina is here, she is sitting with ."

"Good, good have they finished serving breakfast yet?"

"No ma'am," the young porter shook his head. "One of the pots of porridge was burnt this morning they had to make another, so it was late."

Owena sighed. "What we need is our own oven and stove rather than this little fireplace." The nurse shook her head. "I'm grateful to the nuns, but-" here the other woman stopped and shrugged. "I may as well wish for the sun in my hands."

"With breakfast being late," Owena turned to her. "Pradeep will not yet be done seeing patients." The head nurse pursed her lips thoughtfully and the kitchen door opened.

"Hotjor, Mrs. Granada finished her pudding and-," the woman coming through the door looked up from the bowl in her hand and froze mid-stride, mid-sentence. Gwen felt a pricking of envy upon sighting the newcomer, and knew she was not the only one.

"You got Mrs. Granada to eat all of her food?" Owena sounded both surprised and pleased.

"Yes."

"Well done."

"Thank you," the newcomer smiled and her face beamed at the praise.

"Ms. Jenafere, this is Mrs. Sabina. I do not believe the two of you have met. Mrs. Sabina is a new volunteer."

"Oh," Gwen said extending her hand for a handshake and taking the opportunity to study the Mrs. Sabina's face more.

Her initial assessment of beauty stood. Rich, gleaming dark hair topped a face that might only be considered perfect. It wasn't any single aspect of the woman's face, she'd seen prettier on others, but in Sabina's face every single feature sat in perfect harmony with the other.

Smooth dark brows made an elegant curve over clear blue-eyes with a slight lift at the corners. A nose that might have been too wide in another face set in perfect proportion to wide high cheekbones and matched a clear high forehead. Finally she had one of those bow shaped mouths so oft praised in song and poetry and delicate feminine chin. All of this combined with a clear sun tinted complexion, marred -perhaps in some minds- by a small dark mole over one eyebrow.

"Pleased to meet you Ms. Jenafere, I know physician Pradeep is relieved that you are here. He is always grumbling over his late nights."

Gwen smiled as the other woman closed her hand in a light, soft grasp and she felt the scrape of rings against her palm.

"I suppose they will be my late nights now."

"Perhaps," Sabina said. "Welcome, I hope you do well here," the other woman said head tilting ever so slightly to the right. Silver earrings with large lapis stones, bobbed with her movement and Gwen thought to herself that people who didn't envy Sabina's beauty, might envy her wealth.

She looked down at the hand slipping out of her palm and saw rings on half of the other woman's fingers, the sapphire blue of her gown had jewel tone richness that only the wealthy could afford.

"Mrs. Sabina can you sit with for a time. He has been agitated and you soothe him. Perhaps read him a few psalms."

"I'd be happy to. Thank you." Sabina turned and left.

"Mrs. Sabina has a way with patients, a kindness, and warmth that reaches them."

Gwen considered the other woman's immediate friendliness.

"If ever you are given charge of a hospice look for that quality in your staff," Owena advised. "Not all of them will have it of course, but at least half of them should."

Guinevere nodded dutifully, not knowing when she might have charge of a hospice.

"So Issac, whom you'll meet, and Hotjor are our two porters. They help with the cleaning and some of the basic patient care, freeing the nurses to spend more time with the patients or assisting Physician Pradeep with some his preparations. We keep them quite busy, but if ever you require assistance with something that is not of a medical nature ask for one of them."

"We are your friendly grunts," Hotjor said flashing her a bright smile.

Another man, this one with skin as rich and dark as Ylsa's and intricately braided hair came in pushing a cart of dishes.

"And here is Issac now," Owena smiled. "Issac this is assistant Physician Jenafere."

"Nice to meet you Ms. Jenafere," Issac smiled as he said it.

"Oh please just call me Ms. Jen."

"As you like."

"Issac has everyone finished their breakfast?"

"Yes."

"Good, Ms. Jenafere why don't you take a few minutes to yourself and then head over to the receiving room."

"All right," Gwen said knowing exactly what she would do with this time."

* * *

><p>Their virgin reminded her of her mother dark-hair, dark-skin, and an expression as serene and placid as a still lake.*<p>

There was no service in the chapel when she entered, but there were worshippers, people come to pray, meditate or seek the advice of the priest. After a moment she saw Father Flaejer emerge from the confessional a far away expression in his pale gray eyes.

"Mr. Flaejer," she called.

His eyes found her and the serious expression on his face evaporated into a bright smile.

"Ms. Jen, has your first day started yet?"

"Yes," Gwen clasped her hands in delight. "I've read and studied so much, but I'd begun to give up hope that I would put any of it to use."

"And now you are?"

"Well not quite yet, but this afternoon I finally begin working with the patients."

"It sounds as if it's going well. You are indeed blessed." His gray eyes were quite serious.

"You truly believe that." It was a statement rather than a question.

"Oh yes," Father Flaejer replied without any hesitation. "We are all blessed of course, but when our hearts are pure and we work in accordance with the lord, in accordance with good our blessings are increased."

Gwen didn't say anything.

"How long have you been here in Wyeledon?"

"Five months," she said after a moment's thought.

"Five months, you arrived here with little more than the clothes on your back."

"I've lost everything."

"The Lord takes with one hand and gives with another. What did you lose?"

"My home, my employment, my possessions, my family, and," here she paused, "my betrothed.

He nodded. "Those are grievous losses and yet a short five months later you have nearly all of those things again your home, new employment, possessions and not family, but you have goods friends I think."

"But I loved the things that I had."

"And in the end you'll love these things as well if you let yourself."

Gwen breathed in the strong sweet fragrance of incense.

"Can I ask you something Father?"

"Of course Ms. Jen."

"You hear priest and Christians talk much of forgiveness more so than any others."

He nodded.

"I feel that I forgive too easily."

He chuckled, "There is no such thing. Easy forgiveness is the sign of a pure heart, we are asked to forgive our enemies before they have even asked it."

"But I don't get forgiven so easily."

"That," the priest paused a moment, "is a bitter remedy to drink. Tell me about this forgiveness you have given."

"Someone very close to me, someone very important to me said some things to me that hurt very much and then even though we had an agreement he reneged upon it. Not long after he brought me flowers and said it was a mistake and I forgave him."

The priest nodded.

"This was the betrothed that you lost?"

Guinevere considered a moment before finally nodding.

"Why did you forgive him?"

"Because I love him, because I loved being with him. Because I had loved him for so long and I had waited for him for so long." Guinevere explained realizing she could have said almost the same of her forgiveness for Elyan.

"So you forgave him, because you liked the love you were getting from the relationship and expected to marry."

"Yes."

"So your forgiveness was conditional not freely given and now that the relationship is over you want to take your forgiveness back?"

Gwen felt her face flush hot with embarrassment, she had never thought of it that way.

"I suppose so," she admitted. "It sounds terribly selfish when you put it that way."

"Or terribly human," the priest said. "Seeing that you benefit from something and ending hostilities to keep that benefit is how many wars are ended and a part of any relationship. We do need to understand what is important to us."

She nodded he was surely right about that.

"Thank you Father."

"You're welcome. Tell me about this second case of forgiveness."

"A friend threw some insults at me. I had come to help them and they accused me of having a selfish intention."

"That doesn't sound like something you would do."

"It's not, this friend had been very helpful to me and become very dear." _Yes Adras was assuredly dear to her._ "They were hurting because of some difficulties they'd been having and I wanted to cheer them."

"So why did you forgive this friend?"

"Because sometimes when we are hurting we say or do foolish or cruel things to those we care about."

"So you forgave the human frailty."

Gwen nodded.

"That Ms. Jen is divine forgiveness. That is the forgiveness we are asked to give both to ourselves and our fellow man. It is not such that we forgive the action, but frailty behind the action."

"Because we all suffer the same frailty," she said voice soft with understanding.

"Yes," he nodded. "We forgive for that reason and in so doing we free ourselves from the sins of arrogance, pride, and vengeance, the feelings and desires that bring us ongoing misery and suffering."

"Forgiving others frees us?" Gwen looked at him doubtfully.

"Think about it for a while."

"But-"

"Just a short while."

"Very well, I should probably get back."

"We shall have more time talk." He gave her shoulder a friendly squeeze and left.

Guinevere nodded; she did not quite know what to think. She had never considered forgiveness to be a potentially selfish act. But the priest was of a certainty right, she had forgiven both Elyan and Arthur, because she enjoyed their presence in her life. Yet they could not forgive her frailty and- She swallowed, felt her hands clenching into tight fist, felt her shoulders rising, and the tingling headache began again at the base of her skull. _They _did not love her enough, did not think enough of what she brought into their lives to forgive her for the sake of their own selfish desires.

She sat for a stunned moment trying to tell herself that that could not be true, that they loved her, that they liked her…_She had been a good friend, good sister, good subject, even if she had not been so good a love to Arthur._ She did not expect that Arthur would marry her after all, but to send away forever. Suddenly she wanted to cry and here Guinevere stopped herself.

She had a home, a position, friends….If Father Flaejer was right about forgiveness, than he was right about everything else. She could love her new life in Wyeledon as much as she'd loved her old life in Camelot.

* * *

><p>When she'd done with her prayers Guinevere headed to the office where Pradeep saw his patients. The physician was not yet there, but Head Nurse Owena was. She was sitting at the room's desk an open log in front of her.<p>

"You are just in time Ms. Jenafere come have a look at this."

Gwen moved to stand behind the older woman. As she suspected Owena was reviewing a log book. Pradeep's log book was in Latin like so many others and once again Guinevere felt a stirring of sorrow and gratitude for all those times Morgana let her look over her shoulder.

At the top she read the Julian date, the patient's name, symptom, diagnosis and prescribed treatment, state and expected result and notes.

"Physician Pradeep is very thorough in his notes."

"Any good steward would have to be," Gwen remarked.

"That's very clever." Owena smiled, but then her very proper mask came back down again. "He will expect that you keep equally thorough notes in time. You do not need them yet, but there are some materials you are expected to create."

Owena unfurled the scroll that had been sitting in front of her and revealed a drawing of a human skeleton front, back, and profile.

"You'll need to duplicate this."

Gwen nodded.

"Do you have your own copy of Hippocrates?"

Gwen shook her head.

"Aristotle?"

Again a negative nod.

Owena pushed the thick leather-bound tomes across the desk.

"These were donated along with other materials. Have you read them?"

"Some, not all," Gwen said, thinking of the hours and hours of reading she'd completed while sitting at Uther's side.

"Good review the first hundred pages of each."

Gwen nodded, keeping her expression blank. She was not looking forward to two hundred pages of reading.

"You'll also be required to write up one case every week. They needn't be complicated, just the patient's symptoms, and the treatment you prescribed."

"All right."

"Here is one of Physician Pradeep's case logs." Owena set a sheaf of paper, bound with cord on top of the tomes. "Take some time to study it now. When you are feeling comfortable with the method of writing up cases head on over to the floor and observe. Pradeep will probably want you to take your lunch with him and after lunch the two of you will begin with the patients."

Gwen nodded.

Owena looked at the stack of books and grimaced.

"There is a lot of reading with this position, but I assure you it is not all dust covered tomes." The other woman gave her arm a friendly squeeze.

"I don't mind its never been my job to sit and read," Gwen said feeling some pleasure at the thought.

"Well enjoy then," Owena left and Gwen settled herself in Pradeep's chair.

With a smile Guinevere settled down to read.

* * *

><p>"Ah, Ms. Jenafere here you are," Pradeep and Owena entered the reception room together.<p>

She'd spent perhaps an hour studying Pradeep's cases. It hadn't taken that much time to feel comfortable with the process, but then she'd simply gotten absorbed in the reading and learning the outcomes. When she'd gone out on the floor to find the Physician he had already gone on some errand of his own.

Considering what she would do next had decided to take her lunch alone and get some of her reading started.

"This seemed as good a place as any for studying."

"Indeed," the physician went to his desk taking the center seat and motioned to a chair beside it. "You'll join me here."

Gwen gathered the books she'd brought for reading and took the seat left open for her. Two chairs for patients faced Pradeep's desk and looking at those empty chairs Gwen swallowed and clasped her hands together tightly. Treating sick people was her job, she had to help them.

"Nurse Owena please admit the first patient."

The first patient was a well dressed young woman complaining of headaches, she had the look of a merchant's wife about her. A physician had come to her home, but he had no answer for her pain. Pradeep had studied the medicine of the Occident, but he was also familiar with both newer and older medicines from the Orient. He asked the young woman a number of questions about her rest habits and the foods that she ate, as well as some general questions about her lifestyle. Then he surprised them by asking about her stools and some other unexpected queries.

It seemed that her diet had changed in recent months due to her husband suddenly increasing his wealth. They were eating more pastries and meat and fewer peasant greens. When Physician Pradeep advised her to return to her simpler diet, she admitted that the neighborhood physician had told her the same.

Pradeep frowned and Gwen studied the golden wood grain of the desk.

"Please understand physician my husband has to throw parties and host dinners, we are expected to provide certain foods, if we do not..."

He began to look more sympathetic then and Gwen found herself nodding. Competition amongst the noble and wealthy could be quite fierce. Serving the wrong food or wearing the wrong clothing could damage a reputation for some number of months, particularly if one was new to their wealth.

"Surely you do not take every meal in company?"

"No," she shook her head.

"Then this is what you must do to lessen your headaches. Your own meals outside of company must be more of the peasant diet you were raised with. Eat only the freshest foods you can, well seasoned with herbs, eat only brown breads, and avoid the pastries in particular. When you must eat richer fare eat your own simple meals beforehand so that you only eat smaller amounts of this other food."

She frowned an expression of confusion.

"But why does this food make me ill? It does not make everyone ill."

Gwen started to speak, but shut her mouth.

"Ms. Jen if you should like to answer please do so."

She studied Pradeep a moment before speaking, when she found nothing, but patient encouragement there Gwen cleared her throat.

"The body is composed of the different elements. Each body has its own combination some are more of the earth than others, some more of fire, some more of water and some more of air. If the elements of the foods do not match the elements of the body than there will be foul humors and ill health. Since each body is different what is perfect for one, can be poison for another."

Her eyes widened and she looked worriedly to the physician.

"Do not worry. Go back to the diet that you ate before and I will send a preparation to your home as you may still have headaches from time-to-time."

She nodded.

"Thank you Physician Pradeep, Ms. Jenafere."

The next patient was an older man with worsening arthritis. Physician Pradeep gave him a few quick flexibility test, asked a some questions and advised a treatments of dwale and brandy for pain with a sigh.

"Sadly there is nothing we can do for old age."

Gwen began making her notes as Nurse Owena turned to show the old man out.

"Dwale _and_ brandy?"

"Yes he can alter between the two to avoid the negative effects of each."

"Oh," Gwen said feeling a sudden sadness for the things they could not do.

The rest of the afternoon was a quiet one. Patients came in with various aches and pains. When a medicine was prescribed Guinevere dutifully wrote it down. Most would be sent to the local apothecary though there were a few that would be prepared by Pradeep here at the hospice when they finished with patients for the day. Some would picked them up, others preferred delivery.

Pradeep cast a glance out the window and yawned as Nurse Owena opened the door.

"How many more?"

"This is the last. A youth with a burn."

"A youth?" Pradeep asked clearly surprised. "Is he on his own?"

"Yes."

The physician frowned before glancing at her.

"Send him along."

The young man was thin, a match for her in height. He wore simple serge pants and a worn linen tunic with sleeves long enough to cover his hands easily. He had curling dark hair like so many others. The features of his face weren't of any note, what caught her attention were his eyes. They were the pale, crystal blue of a river on a frozen winter morning. They called to mind a memory flavored with the sweet odor of fever and the rank fragrance of fear. The child was twelve, perhaps thirteen years of age, but she knew him surely she did though she could not yet recall his name.

He stared at her a moment with a frown matching her own before smiling wide and bright, as if sighting for the first time a long lost friend. She could still see him in her mind's eyes, huddling with fear in Morgana's arms, she remembered telling him a story, and brushing sweat soaked hair from his forehead when Morgana was too worn to care for him herself.

"Guinevere," the boy declared her name and she knew him.

Of all the people she'd ever hoped or wanted to see from Camelot she had certainly never imagined any of them walking into the hospice on her first day or work. Nor had her mind ever summoned this child, this boy, a victim of Uther's cruelty, to play a part any of her fancies. But she did indeed know him, knew those winter morning eyes.

"Mordred."

* * *

><p>Thank you all so much for reading. Please comment, I love knowing what you all think.<p>

*dwale- is a medieval pain killer composed of henbane,non-lethal doses of hemlock and mandragora amongst other ingredients, in the latter part of the period opium was added and it became addictive.

*barbers- historically barbers performed both surgery and dentistry.

professional rivalries could get pretty intense when one was seen to be outside of their domain. when researching surgery and bonesetting I came upon a few cases of rivalries that turned violent.

despite how Vikings appear in many shows they were very well dressed and groomed for the time. Many Vikings were buried with hair combs and known for being better groomed than the English and the Welsh.

Black and Brown Madonnas from the medieval period are found all over Europe.


	30. Chapter 30: By Fire Do I Test My Gold

_**Previously In The Exile:**_

Arthur lifted his hand for the cup and that trembling weakness returned. His hand shook as he took it from the child and the cup had all the weight of his sword after a day spent training. Arthur pushed himself up on one elbow and he trembled throughout his body as the room spun. Fear bubbled up in his stomach. This was worse than the weakness that had come upon him during his quest to the Fisher King.

He sat unmoving, gripping the cup so that its wooden surface dug into his hand. He waited for the dizziness to pass. The trembling lessened and he lifted the cup to his lips with two hands. The water was cool and wonderful in his mouth. Arthur sipped at it faster than he knew he should, but he couldn't stop himself, he felt so parched. The water hit his stomach like a stone. He coughed, his hands began to shake, his limited strength gave out and he fell back against the bed, spilling the water across the linens as the cup went rolling..._**Chapter XVIII As the Firefiles Danced**_

He thought of his mother, his beautiful mother standing before him telling him the truth of her death. He remembered the clarity he'd taken from that moment. The truth now was no different than it had been nearly four years ago. His father had not outlawed magic because of its danger; he had outlawed it because of his own hypocrisy, to cover his crimes, to spite his brother even...**_.Chapter XVIII As the Fireflies Danced_**

* * *

><p><strong>The Exile: Part II<strong>

**-Guinevere called Jenafere-**

**Chapter XXX: By Fire Do I Test My Gold**

Rhosyn Pendragon reached for her husband and sighed when her hand found only the memory of his warmth in their sheets. She shifted to the center of the bed, spreading out to savor it's largess. She may have missed her husband's warmth, but she knew how to appreciate his absence.

He was, most likely, checking the talking paper.

She had known, as she sometimes knew things that they would not have to make war on King Arthur. Known it the moment the late King Uther had fallen ill. She had not however been prepared for his announcement to her yestereve. Just three short weeks in their home and he had decided to lift the ban on magic. But then right was right and wrong was wrong. One did not need to speak with _The Others_ day in and day out to discern it. It was evident that the young king had come to them already questioning his father's choices.

Rhosyn rolled over onto her side and reached for a little pouch that they kept on the bedside table. She popped a clove into her mouth and laid back down, crunching the little nugget between her teeth

"Rhosyn Pendragon."

She turned at the sound of her husband's voice and smiled, stretching her arms over head, when she saw him.

Ambrose stood in the doorway of the little workroom off their sleeping chamber, the early dawn light casting shadows over his bare flesh.

"You have not called me Pendragon in a long time husband."

"No I have not," his words were slow and thoughtful. "You shall be hearing it more, along with Duchess I should imagine."

"Duchess Rhosyn Pendragon," she considered that a moment. "All these long years I have only been mother or mom, queen of our little castle."

"Would you have liked to have been queen?" Ambrose asked as he strode toward their bed.

She laughed, "I think I should find the constraints of queendom stultifying and besides I could not imagine you killing your brother."

The bed sagged under Ambrose's weight as he sat down beside her, his broad form blocking out the rest of the room.

"No," he said voice soft.

She took his hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. He had so many regrets about Uther.

"Were you checking the talking paper?"

"Yes, all remain blank."

"All?" Rhosyn felt renewed stirrings of concern. Meinwir was a week overdue and now this.

"I only wrote to them last night, but _someone_ should have replied."

"You are right in this."

"Do _The Others_ still say nothing of Meinwir's absence?"

Rhosyn cocked her head to one side asking the question of her guardians.

Meinwir, their most highly placed spy in Camelot, reported to them once a month on the first night of the full moon. While she was on occasion late reporting to them and that was rare, she had never been a week overdue.

Thus far no matter how she had asked The Others gave back nothing regarding Meinwir's silence.

"I grow worried Ambrose. We have had no visitors these last three weeks, Meinwir is now a week overdo, the talking paper remains blank, Morgana is absent, and the King Arthur has arrived near dead on our doorstep."

"It is an ugly picture you paint, but do you see anything?."

"Well _The Others_ are silent, but I am certain Morgana is up to something. It is unfortunate we could never keep a spy on her."

He nodded, the frown on his handsome face deepening.

"But surely you do not need spies or prophecy to know that something has happened?"

"No," he said taking her hand and kissing it. "I suppose I was hoping for a different forecast."

"I'm sorry darling, but I cannot offer you that."

He sighed. "Can they at least tell us if Meinwir is dead or alive, safe or in danger?"

Rhosyn took a moment to formulate this question in her thoughts. The answer came back in a language she did not understand.

After a moment she shook her head.

Ambrose looked annoyed and then disgusted, and Rhosyn sighed inwardly. She did not want to hear her husbands complaints on the fickle nature of prophecy.

"Perhaps we shall go into town and seek news that way. We need supplies after all."

He looked for a moment as if he might complain, but then he nodded.

"Very well, do you think we should tell the children before we go, about Arthur, about myself?"

"The sooner it is done, the better." She sighed, her children liked their cousin. "They shall not know what to think of him at first."

"No."

In that moment it came to her. An image of herself and Arthur in her workroom heads bent over her scrying mirror. Familiar with these moments of suggestion Rhosyn concentrated. _The Others _were at last speaking to her, she wanted to hear what they had to say.

The vision changed and she saw her nephew hunched, straining, weighted down, a chain strapped around his chest, each step forward a struggle, as he towed a boulder painted with a question mark.

She smiled, this was an easy one. Some worry, some unanswered question rode upon Arthur's shoulders. _The Others_ believed she could answer that question, ease that worry.

She felt waves of satisfaction from them then. Did she have time to sit him down for this scrying session before they went into Caer?

"Rhosyn, do _The Others _finally speak?"

Ambrose brought her back to the present.

"What do they say," he asked expression hopeful.

"Nothing of Meinwir."

"What then?"

"Our nephew," she sat up. "It seems he has earned a boon."

"Arthur?"

"Yes, I am to be its deliverer," she smiled pleased at the idea of doing something helpful. "There is a question weighing on him."

"Magic? I wonder if he is ready to partake of such?" Ambrose asked that question to the air more than to her.

Rhosyn frowned she had not considered that.

"Perhaps I shan't."

_NO! The Others_, shouted it loud and clear.

"They truly desire that I offer this seeing to him."

"Are you?"

"I'm not certain that I want a part in testing him and that's _what this would be!"_ Rhosyn shouted the last. "No matter what guidance I am offered, no matter how freely, I retain my free will. If I want no part in testing my nephew's commitment to this new path that is my right."

She said this for The Others far more so than her husband. When they had ideas, when they spoke to other guardians they could become very persuasive. She didn't want them whispering gentle suggestions in her ear when she wasn't paying attention.

"If he has earned then surely…"

"If he has earned it then someone else shall be charged with it's delivery if I refuse."

"I make no effort to compel you darling," he said taking her hand and kissing the back of it. "Do they still say nothing of Meinwir?"

Rhosyn shook her head.

"Would they tell you if she were in danger?"

"Yes, if the danger were immediate and urgent," Rhosyn nodded.

"Of course if she were dead then she would not be in any danger at all," Ambrose complained.

"I shall try another scrying session," Rhosyn said.

The previous session had revealed nothing regarding the fate of their most highly placed spy in Camelot. This was made all the more worrisome by their lack of visitors these last three weeks. They had allies and friends enough that the lack of news was starting to be troubling.

_Merlin,_ The Others, whispered the name of Arthur's mysterious manservant then.

"There is Merlin to consider as well," Rhosyn said. "We still don't understand his role in all of this."

"No and I mislike his absence at this time."

Merlin had come to their attention a year ago. As Meinwir had moved up in the ranks of palace servants, gathering more information for them the manservant had become more and more visible. _All_ were convinced that he was something more than a servant. What that was they could not say. He was far too secretive and slippery. One thing however was certain, he had access to magic of some sort.

"Is it suspicious do you think?" Rhosyn asked. "Arthur nearly dead and the manservant who goes with him everywhere absent?"

"Perhaps," Ambrose muttered absently. "Would The Others give some warning if he were dangerous to Arthur?"

"They tell what they want to tell. They are concerned about him, though what that concern is I cannot, at this time, say." Rhosyn shook her head.

They both fell silent then and the early morning quiet became a noise of it's own reminding them that all of their children slept.

"Perhaps we should send word to Camelot." Ambrose said a small smile playing about his lips."There is no danger in that now."

"No," she returned that smile, "I told you, you would not have to make war on your nephew."

"So you did," his smile broadened as his eyes dropped to her smooth, bare shoulder.

"You are a good wife Rhosyn," he kissed her palm then and then her wrist. "But if my nephew is the only thing on your mind this morning he may find himself facing my wrath."

Ambrose leaned toward her then, making what he wanted her to think about all too clear.

"Well Ambrose," she said tone prim, "he is king and he did just make a most important decision."

"Woman," Ambrose growled and started tickling her.

They squirmed and wrestled like randy adolescents until she was lying atop him panting and breathless.

She gazed into his eyes a moment before speaking.

"You didn't let me tell you all that I was thinking," Rhosyn wagging one slim finger his bright eyes following her every movement now.

"And what pray tell was that?"

She stroked his graying blonde hair back from his face and ran one delicate hand over his bearded cheek.

"I was thinking that though he does bear a strong resemblance to one who is most dear, to me he lacks the character that only time can give and his countenance reflects inexperience, not wisdom."

"Oh I see." He kissed her fingertips as they settled a moment on his lips.

"Do you, now? Because I far prefer this wise and experienced, green-eyed gentleman to any other."

He kissed her then long and soft and sweet and Rhosyn shifted so that she could feel her husband's morning arousal growing against her thigh. And for a little while King Arthur and Camelot and all the other problems slipped to the back of their minds.

* * *

><p>"I feel as if something were wrong," Arthur said as he handed Aikat up into the back of the open cart.<p>

The clear summer sky and the unusual coolness had settled today for a market trip.

When Aikat was situated Arthur climbed up into the cart, settling himself across from her on the woolen blanket that they had spread over fresh, sage rushes. The rushes released a warm earthy smell as they were crushed, a simple pleasure.

"Something _is_ wrong," Ambrose said from his seat on the cart's bench. "We've had no response from any of my contacts, Meinwir is overdue by more than a week now, and," here he paused. so if Ambrose is thinking over what he wants to reveal here it should be that he is thinking of Merlin's absence "The silence is just unusual, we usually have visitors. We've had none these past three weeks."

Ambrose and Aikat were both dressed in plain homespun. As much as Ambrose resembled Uther dressed plainly no one would take him for anything other than a man that bore a striking resemblance to the king, perhaps an unacknowledged bastard.

His faulty memory, the sense that something was wrong pushed at him again.

"This is something else." Arthur said shaking his head. "I feel as if I've forgotten something very important. Aikat," he turned his attention to his cousin now. "You said you found me outside of Morgana's home?"

The girl nodded.

Arthur poked his lips out thinking.

"I don't remember going outside. The last thing I remember is Merlin vanishing."

"Forgetfulness of events just before a grave injury is not uncommon," Ambrose said and Rhosyn strode up just in time to catch his last words.

Like his uncle Rhosyn wore were a plain and dull colored homespun dress, with little adornment, her dark hair hidden under a linen cap.

"What's not uncommon," she asked as her husband helped her unto the wagon's bench?

"Arthur doesn't recall how he came to be outside before Aikat found him."

"Most likely you staggered out in pain," Rhosyn said settling herself, "that's why you don't remember. The mind shies away from the unpleasant, especially when it is the suffering of the body."

That sounded plausible, but-

"I've forgotten something important," Arthur said growing more certain by the moment.

Rhosyn studied him, a new sense of wariness in her expression.

"And it only started bothering you this very morning?"

He nodded.

"When?"

"When Uncle Ambrose told me he hadn't heard from any of his contacts."

Rhosyn glanced at her husband who shrugged and then she got a far away look in her eyes.

"What's she doing," Arthur asked?

"She is listening," Aikat replied.

"To what?" Arthur said trying to listen for anything out of the ordinary.

"_The Others,_ they tell her important things." Aikat explained.

"Who?"

Rhosyn seemed to focus on the present then, her expression one of disappointment.

"They speak, but I cannot understand it" Rhosyn shook her head. "Perhaps I am not asking the right questions."

"This is my complaint with prophecy," Ambrose said.

"Your _only _complaint husband?" Rhosyn asked tone dry.

"It is as likely to be helpful as it is unhelpful."

"Do not forget Ambrose that you are married to a prophetess."

"And I love her very much," Ambrose replied and kissed the back of her hand. "Rhosyn you are a fine prophetess and I neither challenge, nor doubt your abilities. But there are many poor and false prophecies that are popular and mislead people into mistakes or complacency."

Rhosyn pulled her hand from her husband's and rolled her eyes.

Arthur got the sense that he was hearing another in a long series of arguments about Seeing and Prophecy.

"Consider the druidic prophecies. The sword in the stone-"

At that moment the cart lurched forward, jarring Ambrose in his seat, and interrupting whatever he had intended to say next.

Arthur looked at Aikat and saw her snickering.

"Mom and dad argue about prophecy and seeing from time to time." There was an amused light in her green eyes. "Dad is particularly contemptuous of the druidic prophecies."

He felt a prick in consciousness and his hand strayed to Guinevere's ring. _What were they going to do about the Druids? _ The hunt and torture of them had been relentless during his father's reign.

"Do you know about the Druidic prophecies," Aikat asked?

Arthur shook his head.

"Of course not," the young woman rolled her eyes. "They talk about the golden age and Albion being united into one kingdom, under one great king."

Arthur snorted. Merlin had said something similar, but insisted that he was said king.

"The king's name is hidden, but it mentions an Emrys who shall guide him," Aikat said.

"What else does it say?'

"I don't remember I never paid it much attention." She met his eyes then. "Prophecy about a future golden age doesn't hold much meaning when you fear armed men breaking into your home and dragging your family away to be burnt at the stake."

Arthur grimaced, "Sorry about that."

Aikat stared at her father's back expression far away

"Do you think he would have burnt dad at the stake?"

Arthur knew she was asking if Uther would have had his own brother killed for sorcery.

"Father could be ruthless," he said. "But he was also a hypocrite. I cannot speak for what he would have done."

"I suppose not," the girl fell silent. "It is impossible to speak for another."

The cart rolled out of the Ring Tree Fort and into the forest. Under the cover of the forest canopy the bright, summer morning submerged into the twilight gloom of the old forest. Sunlight broke through in the occasional patch, but otherwise dimness was all around.

Still the cart passed easily along the naked forest floor, the ancient trees allowing them more than enough clearance as they traveled. The donkeys familiar with the route avoided tree roots and pit and before long they came to the old Roman road that bisected Camelot from east to west.

Once on the road the animals picked up speed and the forest cover lessened. Arthur turned his face up toward the emerging sun and closed his eyes savoring its soothing warmth. His fingers found Guinevere ring, and he pulled it forth as was his habit to toy with the little circle of metal and remember the joy of her hand in his.

"I don't accept your apology."

Aikat's words broke into his reverie, a chill splash.

"What?"

"I don't forgive you. I have lived all of my life in this forest, friends of mine have been burnt at the stake, and always the fear that my family would be killed has been with me." Aikat counted the affronts on her fingers. "It's too many wrongs, for forgiveness to be brought for the price of a simple sorry."

She held his eyes, chin raised.

Arthur sighed, "What can I do to make it up to you?"

"I want to be a knight," she said.

"That is really up to your mother and father."

"That's as may be, but its how you can make it up to me. Train me as a knight of Camelot."

_Aikat would make a good knight._

"You'd be the only female."

"That's fine and you could always add more women."

He considered that, thinking of saying no, wondering how much resistance he might get from the other knights. But then he thought of Morgana, she was as capable with a sword as he. What if she had been a knight? What if she had had the camaraderie and acceptance of the knights?

"If your parents will allow it you shall be trained as one of us."

"Good." She started to smile then and Arthur couldn't resist smiling back.

"I won't go easy on you just because you're my cousin"

"I won't go easy on you just cause you're old."

Arthur chuckled. "Thank you so very much for your kindness and consideration."

"You're welcome," she smiled pertly looking altogether too pleased with herself.

The cart rolled on, it's motion steady and lulling. Arthur found his mind drifting to a time when he' been too young to sit on horseback for long. In those days he might ride beside his father for a while, but then he'd in sit in the cart with Efan snuggled close while she told him stories and listened to his childish woes. Arthur closed his eyes and let his mind drift with the security of those memories, recalling tales told in the past to the present.

It was the sudden stilling of the cart that woke from a dream in which he played a game of cards with his mother, Efan, and Guinevere as they rode in a cart on their way to- _He did not know where._

Arthur shook his head and let the dream fade. They were still on the road only fields of grass and trees on either side and the occasional farm house.

"Why've we stopped," Arthur asked, shifting position to relieve muscles grown stiff from sitting.

"Mom wants to pick up a couple we passed back there." The girl pointed toward the horizon with her thumb and Arthur looked back to see the small figures of two people in the distance.

-"Ambrose, that woman was with child and these people might have news," Rhosyn said.

Had his mind had drifted so completely?

"That's as may be, but sitting side-by-side with the king they may well recognize him."

"Let them ride with us, if they like," Arthur said.

Ambrose looked at him askance and Arthur sighed.

"Most likely they will see the four of us and think that I am your son from your first marriage. Aunt Rhosyn doesn't look old enough to be my mother. Besides," Arthur shrugged, "perhaps it is time my people know where I am."

Ambrose stared now, but Rhosyn pressed her lips together holding back obvious mirth.

"They've nearly drawn even with us," Aikat reported.

"They're riding with us," Arthur said, he needed news of his people.

The pair drew near and Arthur could see now that they were hurrying. Both were dark-haired and fair-skinned, their clothing plain. The man carried a large pack on his back and the woman a bundle.

"Thank you," the young woman said when she was in speaking distance.

Arthur cocked his head to the side studying them more closely. Though both dressed much the same as the common people of Camelot, the young woman's perfect Welsh was spoken with strange accent.

"I am Dresden, this," the young man draped an arm over his wife's shoulders, "is my dear Esylt. We are very grateful."

"I am Aikat, this Arthur, and these are my parents Ambrose and Rhosyn."

"Thank you all very much."

If either of the pair recognized him they gave no indication of it.

They handed their bundles up. When Aikat took the woman's Arthur realized he should probably help her. He took the man's larger pack and settled it in the front of the cart. With their things in place the pair came next.

Arthur and Aikat handed Esylt up first. She was not hugely pregnant, but the babe was surely an added and inconvenient weight for scrambling into the back of a cart. The young man followed when she was settled; hoisting himself up with an athleticism that earned a snort of annoyance from his wife. Dresden and Esylt settled themselves, sitting side-by-side, leaving Aikat and Arthur to do the same.

"We're ready," Aikat said and the cart rolled forward again.

"The two of you are on your way to Caer market?" Aikat asked.

"Yes," Esylt smiled and rested a hand on Dresden's arm. "My husband is an apothecary."

"My dad knows something of medicine," Aikat put in.

"Then I suppose we won't be able to sell any to you," Dresden smiled as he said it and Aikat laughed.

"Esylt," Rhosyn leaned toward them from the box. "How far along are you?"

Arthur repressed a sigh of boredom, not particularly concerned Esylt pregnancy or Dresden's occupation.

"I am just about six months." The young rubbed her belly and gasped. "She knows we are talking about her."

_Six months now since he'd banished Guinevere._

"We didn't expect it really, but she got pregnant right away," Dresden beamed with pride and a pink flush tinged Esylt's cheeks.

"Right away," Aikat asked?

"We got married just about six months ago."

"Well congratulations," Arthur said without any suggestion of joy.

The pair did not seem to notice. Esylt had whispered something in husband's ear and he was gazing at her in complete and utter adoration.

_Arthur snorted and told himself he was not jealous of a pair of peasants._

"It was on the king's own wedding day actually," Dresden explained with a deferential shrug. "We'd had the handfasting of course, but hadn't yet married. When the news came that King Arthur was marrying we decided that we would do so on the same day," Dresden shook his head. "It was days later when we learned of Guinevere's treachery.

"I suppose it turned out better for us than him," Esylt said and Dresden kissed her on the forehead.

Arthur stared at the pair of them hands clenched into fist, lips working though he made not a sound. _How was it that they picked up the two most happily wedded individuals in all of Camelot?_

He wanted to pitch the happy couple out of the back of cart. He didn't see Aikat and Rhosyn shooting him worried glances.

"So you're an apothecary, you don't work with a physician or hospice?"Aikat asked.

"Not right now," Dresden said with a dismissive shake of his head. "We had no idea what the Harlot had until a week later."

"Guinevere was no Harlot!" Arthur declared. Aikat and Rhosyn's restraining hands on him the only things keeping him from acting on his earlier impulse.

"She betrayed the king and all of Camelot in the most intimate way possible. She was such a degenerate woman that she was with one of his knights on the eve of their marriage. Referring to her as a harlot is an insult to prostitutes who do an honest business."

Arthur heard the familiar rushing sound in his ears, felt the swelling anger inside of him, the mist of heated blood swam before his eyes- _But he could not get angry. Ambrose had made that clear, rage, anger were part of the stress that triggered the elf-stroke._

"Dresden," chastisement was clear in Esylt's tone and she stared at her husband in disbelief.

Arthur ducked his head, found Guinevere's ring where it lay upon his breast. _They did not know, he told himself. They only speak so, because they do not know._

"She is dead, it is not right to speak ill of the dead. These people may have been some kin to her." Disapproval was plain in her tone.

Arthur forced his breath to slow. He could do nothing if he was lamed by elf-stroke. One could not live at the mercy of another's words.

"I apologize, forgive the harshness of my husband's words." She spoke to him directly closing one hand around his forearm. More of his anger faded.

"It is clear to me that you cared for her very much," Esylt sighed."I can only imagine the shame this scandal has brought to her kith and kin."

Arthur nodded and lifted his head.

"Thank you."

He wanted to tell Dresden off, he wanted to tell the truth of what happened. But where did he even start? In spite of his words to Ambrose he did not believe that now was the time to reveal himself to his people. Without that authority any defense of Guinevere would carry no weight.

His eyes flicked back to Dresden who was once again absorbed in the attention of his wife and for a moment Arthur hated this man.

"Don't throw him out of the cart," Aikat said leaning in to speak for his ears alone.

Arthur glared down at his cousin.

"He doesn't know who you are and," she paused and he could guess what Aikat would next. "She _did_ betray this kingdom."

Arthur glared down at her and groaned in frustrated disgust. To be fair to them he had not yet told anyone the truth of the situation, but it did not make hearing people speak of Guinevere as if she were a traitor an easy thing to swallow.

"We're nearly there," Esylt said she did not sound pleased.

Something in her tone drew Arthur's attention. Both Dresden and Esylt's expressions had sunk into identical frowns.

"Perhaps we should have walked after all," Dresden said with a sigh.

"You don't want to go to market," Aikat asked? "I love it. All the people and merchants."

The couple stared at her wearing nearly identical expressions of consternation.

"Are you stupid?" Dresden asked. "Is she stupid?" He looked to Arthur expression completely serious.

"What?" The four asked in unison.

"Dresden darling I do not believe that they know." Esylt said her tone incredulous.

"Know what?"

"Three weeks ago Morgana brought a foreign army into Camelot, the king is missing. Her soldiers are everywhere."

* * *

><p>Uncertain if they were still going to market they'd taken Dresden and Esylt about a mile from Caer before letting them off to walk the rest of the way. Now they were stopped on the roadside trying to determine their next steps. Perhaps it was luck, but they'd run into no patrols thus far.<p>

"This is why I don't care for prophecy!"

"Don't start Ambrose."

"Why didn't they warn us?"

"There are rules-"

"-Stupid rules-"

"-Do not make this my fault Ambrose, _The Others _tell what they tell."

"Mom, dad maybe now isn't-"

"Quiet!"

"But mom, dad-"

"-Sshhhh!"

The girl gave her parents a disgusted look, rolled her eyes, and stalked away.

"You said it yourself, they withhold information for their own purposes." Ambrose declared.

"Mayhap, mayhap we are needed here," Rhosyn said. "You do not care for the sensation that we do not have control over everything."

Arthur looked at their shortened shadows. It was drawing nigh unto noon.

"No prophecy is-"

"Ambrose, Rhosyn!" Arthur barked their names using the same tone he would have with disobedient recruits on the training field. "We don't have time for this. This argument is beside the point. We're here. Are going we going into town or are we turning back is what we must decide now?"

They shot each other looks ridden with guilt and embarrassment. Ambrose winked at his wife and she smiled back.

"I think we both agree that it is now imperative that we speak with Yeoman Peter," Rhosyn said.

"Agreed and we still need supplies," Ambrose pointed out.

"And we cannot get this information from anyone else," Arthur challenged?

"I promised you support and allies," Ambrose said. "If we are to deliver on them we must make contact with our network otherwise we risk them siding with Morgana or against the throne altogether. Since our usual methods have failed I think we are left with no other choice."

"Very well then."

"Now Ambrose and I can meet with our contact," Rhosyn said. "The two of you should wait-"

-"No," Arthur said recalling how Morgana had had ordinary citizens of Camelot shot in an effort to compel the allegiance of the knights. "I need to see how my people fare."

Rhosyn looked as if she wanted to argue with him, but something in his expression kept her silent. He turned to his uncle and after a moment the older man simply shrugged. When he looked at Aikat the girl grinned.

"Arthur and I will go together while the two of you meet your contact," she said.

"Now just a moment-"

-"Dad I am not being reckless," Aikat explained. "We need to know how the enemy is armed and from whence they hail the two of us together will see more than one alone while trying to spy and guard his back."

"I would be honored to have Aikat guard my back."

The look Ambrose shot him would have put him in his grave if looks could kill.

"She is right Ambrose. Aikat and Arthur can slip into town and simply listen to gossip and observe. Where did Morgana get soldiers? How are they trained? These are thing we will need to know. And," she took a breath, "under the circumstances none should go alone. If Peter sees us with a stranger he might decide not to speak with us and then Aikat will be alone here."

Arthur could see Ambrose turning Rhosyn's statements over in his mind and finding nothing in them that he could disagree with.

"The both of you be careful," the older man said at last. "So we will split up. Aikat you remember where Yeoman Peter's home is?" Ambrose asked that question.

She nodded.

"That is where we are going. We should meet back here by no later than supper time," Rhosyn said.

Everyone nodded.

"I did not know what we would find when we arrived here and I liked none of the signs. So I brought some charms for protection along." Rhosyn handed them each a little bundle on a leather cord.

"These charms will allow us to keep hidden as long as we don't draw the attention of others. However be wary of the alert they will notice something amiss and so might any magic users."

Arthur nodded thinking he would rely on old fashioned stealth to keep himself safe.

"Thank you aunt," Arthur said.

"You are welcome," she smiled at him.

"I think that Arthur and I should walk, slip into Caer through town and let the two of you take the cart."

"Mhmm yes that is a good plan," Ambrose said.

"Everyone be careful." Rhosyn and Ambrose hugged Aikat and then Ambrose surprised Arthur with a quick hug before the pair climbed back onto the cart's box and started off. When the cart was a dot on the horizon Arthur turned to Aikat. It was time for them to go.

"Aikat you have been here more recently and frequently than I have lead on."

There was a brief moment of startlement on her young face, before a determined look came into her eyes and she started forward with a sure steps.

"This way your majesty."

They went over their plan as they walked. A quick scouting of Caer and it's market,and if they could, they would slip into some shadowy corner of the local tavern and learn what they could from gossip.

Caer like so many other cities and towns had sprung up round one of the old Roman waystations. Over time it had evolved into a castle with its own people and lords. While the lower town and market had no walls the people could and did retreat behind the castle walls for safety. With no walls though Morgana could not truly control who went in and out of Caer.

"So Morgana has raised another army," Aikat said.

"It would seem so."

"I wonder how it was that she was able to do so?"

"I wonder at it myself," Arthur replied. "Assuming she can still claim an inheritance from Gorlois, which I don't imagine that should could, his wealth was not so great that she could raise an army with it."

Aikat considered a moment.

"Well then she must have some very dear and very wealthy friends, or you have some very wealthy enemies, or her wealth is stolen."

"Most likely all three," Arthur said.

"All three?"

"I am certain there are disaffected magic users in Camelot that would ally themselves with her. My father had other enemies, _I _have other enemies-" Arthur thought of the assassin _'s father sent after him. "She will inevitably appeal to some of them for one reason or another."

Aikat nodded.

"She would have to have stolen or plundered some wealth as well. I cannot imagine that she could raise the entire fund from private coffers."

"So what are you going to do," Aikat asked?

"Learn what we can here, and join my people at Castle Gogwyn or Ogmore. That is the plan we made, but…" Arthur sighed.

"What?"

"Nothing." Arthur shook his head no longer wanting to share his thoughts.

_Morgana had attacked them again, he'd only just begun to recover from the elf-stroke, he still did not know what had become of Guinevere, and now there was an army in Camelot._

The melancholy that seemed to be always circling him since Morgana's first betrayal crept upon him now.

"It is exciting, is it not?"

"What?" Arthur looked askance at his cousin.

"Morgana is a cruel and vicious tyrant, I know what she did in Camelot, but" the girl shook her head."I am ready to see battle, I've trained, I've fought bandits." She looked at him now and he saw all the fire of youth in her eyes.

"I am ready to be tested against an army."

And for just a moment Arthur recalled what innocence was like. To be young and eager for battle, to have only known victory, and righteous combat. Experience clamored to remind of everything else that could be and for once Arthur ignored it. He gave his cousin a smile, her shoulder a friendly squeeze, and let himself be invigorated by youthful exuberance.

"You will be great Aikat."

"Do you truly believe that?"

"I've trained with you. You're good."

She grinned with the delight of a child and Arthur let it infect him.

He hadn't known what to expect, but Caer looked much as it had when the King's Progress had brought them here four years ago. You could hear the ring of the smithy, smell the bakeshop, the weaver and tailor were open, as was the candler.

The people went about the business of living just as they always had-

-No that was not true.

Soldiers moved through the streets in patrols of three and four. Wherever they went crowds parted and made way for people of Caer stopped what they were doing and ducked their heads as they passed, the soldiers harassed some and let others be. This also meant that they could not study them without perhaps drawing the soldiers eyes.

"It does not seem as if there were a battle here," Aikat kept her voice low.

"It does not," Arthur said. "Lord Caer was not known for being the most courageous or stalwart, I imagine he may have surrendered."

"Surrender!" Aikat wrinkled up her face in disgust.

"We do not know the circumstances."

The girl snorted and Arthur scanned the street.

"There are not enough people here, we are too visible. Let us make our way to the market."

Under his father's reign Caer had been prosperous and busy, a warm liveliness in the air. Whatever criticisms Arthur may have leveled at his father- and that number was growing- he had brought fifteen years of prosperity and stability to Camelot.

_Could he do the same?_

Uther had controlled Camelot with a mixture of fear and promise. According to Merlin it was fear that had turned Morgana against them.

Now it sat heavy and thick in the market air, a pungent flavor amidst other familiar scents like herbs, cologne, wood smoke, heated bodies, and stale beer.

Where before there had been cheerful conversation, leisurely strolls past stalls, energetic merchants crying out the value of their wares, and cheerful bargaining there was now only quick furtive steps, ducked heads, a low murmur of soft conversation punctuated by the occasional curse at an inflated price or the sudden unavailability of goods.

When the soldiers passed through the market grew quiet, unnaturally still as everyone merchant, and shopper alike tried to disappear into the background.

With the crowd of the market for cover Arthur and Aikat were able to stand and watch the soldiers study the design and decoration of their armor to identify Welsh, Gaults,Francs and even Saxons. It was an army of mercenaries, hired from whence she could find them. How was _Morgana _paying them?

One of the members of the patrol they'd been following suddenly straightened, a new alertness in every line of his posture. Arthur pushed them back into a space between two tents and turned showing the back of his head to the crowd and positioning himself between them and Aikat.

"What?" Aikat said.

"I think one of the soldiers may have spotted us and if they haven't I do not want them too."

"Right," she said and then very slowly she stretched up on toe-tip to peek over his shoulder. "They're still there, but not looking this way."

"Good. Let us wait a bit."

"Well we have to meet my parents in about an hour, standing here a few minutes shouldn't be a problem."

"No."

"Do you think we've gathered enough information?"

"Perhaps," Arthur said. "We know what level of skill and ability that we're dealing with, but if we knew more, more of what's been happening." Arthur shook his head.

"We have not yet gone to the tavern," Aikat reminded him.

Arthur considered that. With the charms Rhosyn had given them they could hide with ease in a crowded tavern and simply eavesdrop on the conversations of others. At worse they would learn nothing useful.

"See if the patrol is still there."

Again she peaked over his shoulder.

"Nope they've gone," Aikat said smiling.

"Good let us go," Arthur turned and started forward before motioning to Aikat to lead on.

"They serve a delicious fish stew," Aikat said. "Perhaps we can get something to eat while we eavesdrop."

Arthur suppressed a grimace, he was tired of peasant food.

Navigating the crowds was no easy feat. Rhosyn's protections worked against them. Rendering them invisible to the crowd until people were on top of them or had walked into them. Jostled and annoyed they reached the tavern tent just in time to see a shouting match spill into the street.

"Cheat! Thief!"

"There's no cheating in this tavern!" A burly woman shouted and Arthur presumed her to be the tavern owner.

"Liar! You watered your beer!" A serious accusation.

The woman's face turned red and she walloped the man accusing her of cheating.

The rest of the crowd started to laugh their fear of Morgana's soldiers forgotten for just a moment.

"We need to go." Arthur said as cheers and hoots joined the laughter.

"But I want to get something to eat."

"Come on Aikat!" Arthur grabbed his cousin's arm and started her away from the growing crowd.

The steady murmur of the crowd erupted into a cacophony of angry shouts as the man lunged at the barkeep and Arthur moved faster pushing against the crowd while trying to keep ahold of Aikat. The pent up anger would turn a brawl into a riot.

Concerned about getting separated Arthur kept an eye on his cousin, and that was how he missed them in the crowd, three of Morgana's men.

In less than a breath they surrounded him, shoved something dark over his head, and then the most peculiar thing happened.

An exhausting drowsiness overtook him and Arthur knew no more. In the plain view of hundreds of people the king of Camelot was made to disappear and no one noticed.

* * *

><p>Wow no notes this week. Would have had this out this weekend, but I spent it shopping for a car. Its a used car, but the first I've ever owned. :D excited!<p>

hope you guise enjoyed it and please as always leave me some feedback.


	31. The Exile: I Swear

"Janet."

She opened her eyes; it was almost entirely dark in her little room. The light of the half moon spilled in through the bedroom window. Nacio was sitting on the edge of her bed; his pale eyes glittered in the moonlight. She sat up fully awake.

"Nacio," she said pulling the thin coverlet over her bare body. "What are you doing here?" Fear began to churn in her stomach, while she waited for his answer.**_...Chapter XXII, Wartime Tales, The Blighted Blossom_**

Elyan heard a clatter in the hall and childish shouts.

"We have to tell you about Sir Gwaine!"

In the next moments a Mercian knight entered with three children. Elyan recognized the eldest and the two youngsters looked as if they might be his siblings.

"The first refugees from Camelot-"

"Sir Elyan," the girl darted to him. "You have to help Sir Gwaine!"

"Sir Gwaine?"

"Sir Gwaine is back in the pass sir." The eldest boy said. "Morgana's patrol was following us he didn't want to bring them here." _**...Chapter XXVII Fate's Reaction**_

"I'm not like those people. I don't do those kinds of horrible things. Those are the kinds of things that Morgana and Morguase do."

"Well then Merlin you've nothing to worry about." Lord Troy grinned at him with malicious delight as he said those words. "Of course you could push past the guilt just as healer or seer may push past the cost of abusing their magic. The guilt is actually the protective response from a soul that is worried about doing the right thing. The guilt chokes the magic and circumvents the reaction. Of course if you push past the guilt you will bring about a reaction that is equal to the weight of the magic you've used and the damage you've caused."

"Well I've nothing to feel guilty over, because I've done nothing wrong." Merlin lied even as panic rose in him. Allowing Gwen to be banished was wrong. And Morgana, she had turned against them long ago, was that the beginning of this so-called Fate's Reaction?

"Well I suppose that's settled then isn't it." Lord Troy grinned in such a way that told him they both knew that wasn't true...**_Chapter XXVII Fate's Reaction_**

* * *

><p><strong>The Exile, Part II<strong>

**-Guinevere, Called Jenafere-**

**Chapter XXXI: I Swear**

* * *

><p><strong>Sir Elyan<strong>

Gogwyn castle stood stark against the evening sky and Gwaine leant into his mount's neck, encouraging greater speed from the animal. He told himself to ignore the sting in his cuts and bruises as the horse's mane lashed his face. Elyan wanted them in Gogwyn before night fall. The trail up the mountainside was short, but steep and treacherous they could not negotiate in the dark.

When Morgana's soldiers had descended into the valley,though he was hopelessly outnumbered, Gwaine had fought them rather than surrender. A dangerous choice, but he had to cover Huwyl, Delwyn and Gronw's escape. He'd been taken of course. Ten against one meant he had no hope, but he'd managed to kill two of their number before being forced to surrender.

Elyan called a halt and everyone slowed their mounts to a stop.

"After this climb it is just a few yards to Castle Gogwyn!" Elyan's shout carried to all of their ears and Gwaine knew it was largely for his benefit.

"Good I'm ready to put my feet up and have a pint of mead," Gwaine replied and forced a tight smile

"No mead for you my friend, but you can put your feet up," Elyan said and returned his smile.

It had been nearly two full moons since Elyan had left Camelot. Gwaine had been surprised to see his friend and a party of Mercians knights riding to his rescue.

The line started forward and they went one-by-one, eyes trained on the path ahead of them. Gwaine concentrated, ignoring the pain of his injuries, he did not want to add a broken ankle to the list of his complaints. Thankfully the climb though steep was short and soon they were climbing again onto the backs of their mounts and thundering along the last bit of the path into the Castle Gogwyn's gates the setting sun painting the sky a last bloody red before plunging them into the dark of night.

One of the Mercians volunteered to take his mount as soon they were inside the castle courtyard and Elyan was at his side guiding him to sit in the firelight, bandages and salves somehow already in place.

"We do have a physician, but he will have to tend _ first and the Mercians-" Elyan shook his head. "Queen Annis has not required them to have any medical training."

"Elyan wait," Gwaine said even as he sat on the stool his friend had produced for him. "You need to know before Morgana invaded I received a letter from Gwen, she is alive."

Elyan stared at Gwaine, took in his cut, bruised face, the stone walls behind and around them, the dim light of the fire dancing over them.

"A-a- letter? From Gwen?" He kept staring. "She's alive?"

The corner of Elyan's lip twitched upward into a half formed smile, and tension the young knight forgotten he'd been carrying oozed out of him.

"She is alive? You're sure?" He asked these questions not quite daring to believe it yet. "Wh-wha- what did her letter say?"

The sister who had always been a part of his life, his world, even when she was merely banished lived, Elyan blinked at the start of relieved tears.

"I'm sorry my friend I did not have time to have it read, but I picked out her name, a few words, that she was safe. It is from her I am certain and she is alive." Gwaine smiled on the last words and somehow Elyan knew that it was true.

"Oh dear sweet Lord," he said, looking up to the heavens. "Vulcan and Minerva, my sister is alive!"

Elyan whooped and shouted then, shock passing as joy suffused him. He caught Gwaine up in a hug and danced around the castle room, tears of joy pouring freely from his eyes as his feet made a clatter on the stone floor. The Mercian knights looked to Gwaine for an explanation of this sudden and unexpected ecstasy.

The initial rush of joy ended where it had started it as questions, the need to more, the desire to see his sister, talk to her, apologize pierced the initial cloud of happiness.

_"Is she well Gwaine?Where is she?How does she live?_ I saw no sign of her in Ealdor." He paused a moment. "That's right, you didn't read the letter. You don't have it with you by any chance?" He asked wondering how much more good news would come from his friend.

Gwaine shook his head.

"Of course you don't," he patted the other knights arm giving it a friendly squeeze as he started to smile. "You'd show it to me if you did. Its no bother though. Gwen is alive!" He grinned harder, almost stupid with happiness. "Thank you for bringing this news."

"You're welcome." Gwaine winced as he said it and a flood of embarrassment mingled itself with Elyan's happiness.

"I'm sorry. I am supposed to be taking care of your wounds." He shook his head and looked to the table where the soap, salve, and bandages awaited him. "This is fine repayment for your good news."

Arthur had insisted that they learn to tend each other's wounds and injuries, they could not always count on the availability of a physician.

With a little soap and water Elyan began cleaning the cuts on Gwaine' face. One just along the left cheekbone was particularly nasty.

"This cut on your cheek will have to be stitched."

"Just keep me pretty," Gwaine said with a wink.

Elyan chuckled and poured and out some brandy for his friend as another flush of joy swept him. _Gwen was alive._

"Drink that while I clean up the rest of these, then I'll stitch up your cut."

While Elyan worked on Gwaine's face he asked the other man to tell him in detail how Morgana had come to take the city, what his encounters with Morgana's men had been like and most important if he had any reason to believe that Morgana knew of their presence at Gogwyn. By the time Gwaine had done reporting Elyan was ready to stitch up the gash just above Gwaine's cheek.

"Its time to start on your stitches," Elyan said.

"Yeah," Gwaine steeled himself and nodded.

The adrenaline from battle and the race back to Castle Gogwyn had abated and Elyan's hand was steady as he started the first of a series of small stitches.

Gwaine grunted, "Tell me about how it is you've come to be here."

"Right," Elyan said. He told Gwaine of Ealdor and his brief visit with Merlin's mother and then how he'd continued on toward Wyeledon thanks to Tilda's recommendation.

"Elyan if Gwen is in Wyeledon I know where she would be."

"Her letter?" His hand slowed just a bit.

"No I saw Gwen before she left, remember I have a sister,I sent her to my sister for help."

For just a moment he stared at Gwaine.

"Why- why didn't you mention any of this sooner?"

"I'd had no letter from my sister and I did not know if Gwen had reached Wyeledon safely. I did not wish to send on a fool's errand."

Elyan nodded not at all certain how he felt about this.

He finished his story, telling Gwaine about what he saw at Blacksmith Micah's home, and then of the meeting with Queen Annis that had ultimately led him here.

"So what is your next step?" Gwaine asked as Elyan finished stitching the cut on his cheek.

"Troops and supplies pour in daily. As much as I mislike the thought of any of Camelot's people under Morgana's rule we are too greatly outnumbered to make any move against her."

Gwaine nodded.

"Also if the king is missing that may make it more difficult to rally the lords against Morgana." Elyan shook his head.

"And Gwen?"

"I have family here too," Elyan shook his head as he said it.

Gwaine didn't say anything and Elyan began dabbing at the blood that had run as he sewn up Gwaine's cheek.

Once again he found himself doubting his mission. Choosing between Camelot and Gwen. When he was chasing a sliver of hope that he did not truly believe in, aiding the people of Camelot had seemed the only choice to make. Now though, knowing that Gwen was alive, where she might be living Elyan stir the urge to fly to her side.

_Was it enough to carry the warning?_

"What will you do when you enough men?" Gwaine asked.

"We are not yet certain, but most of us favor besieging Camelot."

* * *

><p><strong>Merlin<strong>

The summer sun sparkled in pools and puddles of water left behind by recent rains. The sweet perfume of damp earth hung in the air, and puffs of white with the likeness of softest lambswool adorned the sky. Merlin glared at the clouds,frowned at the sunshine, puddles, and muddy earth.

He had considered calling Kilgarrah, but found himself hesitant. That he could still summon the Great Dragon he had no doubt. Dragon summoning was not an ability born of magic. Long before knowing him as a dragon lord, Kilgarrah had known him as a sorcerer, or warlock. He did not want those to who knew him as a sorcerer to know him for what he was now, a cripple.

Once before he had covered the distance between Ealdor and Camelot on, he could do it again. Besides he was in no hurry. What would he do when he arrived? He mistakes could not be mended without magic. Without his magic how was he of any us at all.

The warmth of the sun grew hot on his skin. Merlin took the first step of a journey that felt as if it might be the longest of his life.

* * *

><p>The food his mother had given him would last five, perhaps six days. If he rationed carefully it might even get him to the capital. There were fruits, and tubers to gather. He was no bad fisherman either; if he needed to he could set by besides a stream for a few hours or even days. He would have to forgo meat and fowl though. He had no weapons and no magic to bring, say a rabbit or make his aim with a stone true.<p>

There was no marker or sign to indicate the difference from Ealdor or Camelot, but early on the third morning Merlin heard the sound of horse hooves on pavement. Knowing that Morgana would have patrols and scouts he ducked into the woods on either side of the road hiding himself in the bushes and grass to see what passed.

They were, all of them, mounted wearing an assortment of leather armor or over simple woolen garments. They bore also a badge he had never seen before a white dragon flying free on a gold background, a counter to Uther's _penned_ dragon. Merlin counted five in the patrol. He must go with care from this moment forward, he did not know how Morgana's men were treating commoners, given how she'd treated the common folk last time she'd occupied Camelot Merlin did not want to find out.

As long as he could he would travel in the woods alongside the road.

On the fourth day he found nothing to supplement the food his mother had given him. After weighing his options Merlin decided to stop in the next village. If he remembered correctly that would be Bayberry. He'd stopped there over six years ago when he'd first made the journey to Camelot. Bayberry would host him again. Though he slept that night in the woods, tomorrow he would lay in safety and security beside a hearth.

On the fifth morning he woke to the acrid tang of smoke in the air.

Smoke in itself was no alarming thing. Something was always being burnt. Fire was needed for cooking, for seeing in the dark, for medicine, for warmth, _something was always being burned._ But when one was perhaps ten miles from the nearest village and the wind carried the heavy persistent smell of smoke, worry stirred.

Always dark, on this the fifth morning the woods held the dimness of a cloudy day and worry settled on Merlin's shoulders as he made his way back to the road. Dark skies, heavy smoke, had Bayberry or another nearby village been burned? The forest cover broke a bit when he came to road, but the sky remained dark, the road empty.

And then the woods around him were gone, cleared as they often were for villages and he saw clearly now the clouds of ash and gray and black smoke. Merlin swallowed and kept going forward, hands clenched around the straps of his pack. A great many things had been burnt recently and he hoped that it was not the homes of the villagers. The road dipped into a dale, the ground leveled, and Bayberry spread out before him. Merlin breathed a sigh of relief upon sighting a smattering of thatched roofs cottages still intact and began to walk faster.

He'd missed company since leaving Ealdor, and was looking forward to sleeping under a roof tonight.

As he came to the first of the little shacks, Merlin saw an older man and woman sitting on a blanket in the grass in front of their home.

"Morning," he said to them with a smile.

The woman looked up, saw him, but did not speak. The old man did not move at all, but continued staring at the ground. Merlin frowned and kept walking, another woman that had been standing in front of her home looked at him, her eyes went wide and then she ducked into her house. When Merlin saw another pair of old men, one staring at the ground with empty eyes, while another sat staring as he toyed listlessly with a wooden pipe, he started to worry.

Clouds of smoke may have obscured the sun, but it couldn't be any later than noon. None of these people were too old to be in the fields working, or even occupied with some work here at the village. Idle moments were few and far between in a peasant farmer's life, but here now was a village of able bodied adults all sitting idle. A shiver passed over him.

One of the old men looked at him with something like mild curiosity in his dark eyes and Merlin stopped.

"Morning," he said. "Is Carle still headman of this village?"

"Carle," the old man shook his head. "Carle is dead, talk to his wife Headwoman Tilda."

"Thank you."

"Yeah," the man said his voice soft and tired sounding. The mild curiosity he had shown faded from his eyes and he stared down at the wood he'd been carving as if he'd never seen it.

And suddenly Merlin wanted to move on. He didn't know what had happened here, and he wasn't sure he wanted to. The pall on this village was pulling his shoulders down, slowing his steps, twisting his stomach….

_-"Surround yourself with good people and mould your life on theirs."-_

That was Lancelot and Guinevere, and they were dead, but if they were here, if they were with him Merlin knew what they would do. They would stop, they would talk to Tilda, and they would help in any way that they could great or small.

Merlin found the headwoman's little cottage, it was marked with a little red paint on the door. It looked very much as it had when he'd slept there two years ago. He hesitated just a moment before knocking.

Merlin winced when Tilda woman opened the door. Her face was hard, spare, pale and great bruise of blue, black, and green encircled one eye. But he remembered her, she'd been nursing a little boy and girl. She and her husband had argued about her sister when he'd been here before.

"Ma'am," he said his tone polite. "I'm traveling and I'd hoped I might sleep here a night or two, trade labor for food."

She smiled tightly and Merlin saw bitterness in it.

"What is your name young man?"

"Merlin."

"Like the king's manservant?"

He nodded.

"Well Merlin there is plenty of work to be done, but I am afraid your belly will remain empty." She shook her head. "There is no life here."

"What do you mean ma'am?"

"Come in and I shall tell you." Tilda pulled her door open and let Merlin into the house. "Please sit down."

Merlin did as she bid, sitting on the floor before the hearth as Tilda shut and latched the door.

She leant against the door a, her blue eyes studying him. For a moment he thought she was about to change her mind, against allowing him in or perhaps telling him the tale of her village. But all at once she seemed to make up her mind, pushing away from the support of the wall, and standing a moment as if she were uncertain what her body might do before starting toward him with a limp. Merlin pushed the stool, toward her, but she only smiled and waved it away with one hand

"Thank you, but I shall stand."

Tilda leant against the dull colored wall then giving her weight to her home.

Again she was silent as if gathering herself. She told him then of a messenger sent by Sir Elyan, to call all who could, to come to Castle Gogwyn. How her husband Carle, braver than she'd ever known him to be had hidden the messenger and helped him to carry his message safely from Bayberry, and then how Bayberry paid.

Carle run through, crops burnt, livestock run off or slaughtered, food stolen, and everyone more than seven years and less than forty taken, or slain if they resisted too much. In three short days, all future had been stolen from their village. Her voice was such as she spoke that Merlin felt the irresistible slip of tears from his eyes.

He understood now, what it was he had seen amongst the Bayberry villagers, _Melancholy._

First came the sickness, chills, shallow breathing, confusion, sometimes the heart was affected. Next came the Melancholy. Merlin had seen this before. The first time, Morgana and Cenred had brought an army of undead into Camelot. Not in Arthur or the more experienced knights, but younger men who'd never experienced brutal, violent warfare.

It sat now upon the men and women of Bayberry. A sort of grieving where the mind seemed to drift into itself, and the spirit faltered into silent, acquiescence or inactivity, and disinterest in the day-to-day actions of life.

There was physical sickness here, but it was the wounded spirit of Bayberry, oppressed by all that the people had seen and suffered that would now challenge the survivors.

Merlin swallowed and mopped at his tears, they would do nothing for the people here. His mother had told him to make amends, but what could he, come late and without his magic hope to do?

"I have some little food," he said not knowing how else to respond.

"We did as the king bade us." Tilda paused, expression thoughtful. "Carle was always so careful, following every law to the letter," she sighed. "Also it is summer some of the livestock may yet wonder back. There is time to hunt, to fish, to gather…"

She fell silent and Merlin could all, but hear her thoughts.

_'Famine will come to this village for winter and death will walk again.'_

"You are welcome to sleep here. I do not expect that the soldiers will return." Again the bitter smile flared. "They liked none of us, so well." Her eyes took on the distant, haunted look that Merlin had seen on the other members of this village.

"Is there some work I could do?" He said, wanting to offer something.

Her eyes refocused as if she had forgotten he was there. The afternoon sun peaked through the simple circles that made her windows, round the cracks in the door, and still she did not speak. Merlin considered taking his pointless words back…

"There is _some_ work you can do." She studied him a moment eyes appraising his fitness. "Yes there is some work for you here."

He went with Tilda and a few others to the hiding places for their extra stores. Being the only one uninjured Merlin took as much of their food and supplies as he could upon his own back. There was indeed, some benefit to all that slaving for Arthur. After several trips to their hiding places Merlin had retrieved much of the store food.

Together he and Tilda made up a pot of porridge and walnuts sweetened with gooseberry jelly. They took bowls of steaming porridge to every house in the village. Some looked at them with obvious interest, for others the sight and smell of hot food did not seem enough to pierce the emotional fog that blanketed them. Still every Bayberry villager got their first hot, filling meal in three days.

With supper served Merlin began cleaning up Tilda's home, sorting broken tools, furniture and pottery into repairable or beyond hope. There had been tools amongst the supplies, he would collect them tomorrow.

It proved a long tiring day, wearing in a manner he was unused to, but when it was over, Merlin slept his first night without nightmares since Elyan had returned to Camelot with Gwen's ring.

When he woke on the second morning perhaps it was his imagination, but the melancholy seemed a little less on some of the villagers. Cheered by this Merlin remained another day going again to retrieve the village's supplies. Not just food this time, but some tools. With tools in hand repairs could begin. On that second day he did a few for Tilda and then over the next few days he made the rounds to all the houses in the village. Repairing broken stools, or tables, patching holes in walls, reattaching doors that had been knocked off their hinges, or any of the other little chores that seemed beyond the Bayberry villagers now.

Merlin went round the village making repairs for three days. On the third day he advised one of the villagers to stew up a poultice for an aching back.

When he woke the next morning Tilda questioned him on how how she might treat an ache at her side. A quick examination showed that the ache stemmed from bruising to the ribs. Merlin went out to gather some bone-knit and they brewed a plaster for her side to help the bruises heal.

On the fifth day they began coming to him earnest telling him not about their broken things, but their broken bodies. When his knowledge of medicine proved true Merlin saw the first few smiles he'd seen since the day he came to Bayberry. They went to the woods again, this time to gather plants, roots, barks, any growing thing with a medicinal value. He spent the afternoon boiling salves, directing the preparation of medicines, and wishing for Gaius' medicine book.

He passed two weeks in Bayberry mending and helping where he could. Though Merlin knew he should move on when Tilda and the other villagers greeted him with cheer and hope, their injuries mending, he could not find it in himself to go. He was helping the villagers that much was true and why shouldn't he?

He thought about Arthur and Gwen, worried over Gaius, and wondered what had become of Lord Troy. Still there was nothing he could do for any of them, not without his magic, but the people in this village he could help them right now. He would stay a little longer.

* * *

><p><strong>Grigor, in occupied Camelot<strong>

It came down the street, a murmur that grew into a roar, and distilled itself into marching feet and angry shouts. It drew the people of Camelot out of their homes and into the streets.

Magistrate Grigor, his wife, children, and housekeeper were no exception. They saw Janet first, filthy, clothing torn, she stumbled into view. A soldier came up behind her not even a moment after forcing her to her feet, and shoving her to one of his fellows.

"We'll hang this bitch in the center of town."

A cheering shout went up amongst the men and Grigor swore and charged into the crowd. He'd turned his head to a lot in the past few weeks, but this he could not abide. He pushed soldiers aside, forcing himself to the center of the crowd, and snatched Janet from the man holding her. He shoved her behind himself and glared at the soldier.

Then Grigor drew upon all of his height and authority. The voice and manner that could, if he so willed intimidate kings on their thrones. _These soldiers were a gathering of puny, weak-willed, nothings._ He found the eyes of the soldier that had been shouting about hangings and let all his outrage pour into his gaze. The soldier swallowed, trembled and looked away. The mob grew silent and a hush fell over the dusty summer streets.

"There will be no hanging today!" Each word was a barked shout, a command.

"She killed Nacio!" Someone shouted and a roar came from the crowd. Grigor ignored the twisting in his stomach and forced himself to remain calm, show none of his concern.

"Hey dad," Gerry came up behind him.

"I've got you Janet."

Grigor dared a glance over his shoulder and saw Haf at Janet's side.

"Go back into the house Haf," Grigor said even as he returned his attention to the crowd.

"I'm at your side father like any good son would be."

"She murdered Nacio, murdered him in cold blood."

Grigor tried to think he could not control the mob for long.

"Quiet!" He commanded it with every fiber of his being and the crowd went still and silent. He turned on Janet.

"Is this true?"

"He was raping me every night. I had to make it stop."

Grigor felt his eyes go wide. He should have realized, a household of an old widow and young maid alone, that's what Janet had come to him about. Grigor faced the crowd again. Those words made a difference to him, but they would make no difference to _this _crowd. _This_ crowd probably felt that they had been cheated of their right pillage Camelot, kill it's men, rape it's women, enslave the people, and rob them of everything. He had one tactic that he could think of.

"Rule of law still prevails in Camelot!" He shouted in clear, commanding tones, playing on their being subject to their own commanders. "Queen Morgana, has not changed my role as magistrate. I am still, the law, in Camelot, and this woman shall stand trial for murder just as anyone who kills another does!"

Grigor kept his stare on the crowd meeting the eyes of the ringleaders one-by-one, until they looked away.

Then he turned the four of them toward the house.

"Keep your wits about you," he said it for their ears.

They'd only gone a few steps when he heard the sound of running feet on the dusty earth, but by the time he turned Gerry had already sprung into action. Locking up with the challenger and felling him with two solid blows. Grigor felt the start of a smile and suppressed it.

"Anybody else?"

No one came forward and they turned and headed back into the house.

"Oh, thank you Holy Father," Haf leaned against the door as it shut behind her. Grigor rounded on her rebuke on the tip of his tongue. But she slid down to the floor and he could see her trembling in every limb.

He looked at her long, thin, frame, still childish, eyes as big and dark as his own, but lacking in guile or cunning, lit instead with childish innocence and wide with shock. A moment later Gerry sank down beside her.

"Janet child come along," Efan put a gentle arm around Janet's shoulders and started her toward the parlor.

"Wait my gran!" Janet looked up at them gray eyes wide and beseeching.

"Of course," he sighed trying to think.

"Dad, I'll go check on her!" Gerry volunteered. "I'll take the back way."

He glanced at his wife, who nodded her agreement.

"Fine, be quick."

Gerry got to his feet and started toward the back of the house, but Grigor stopped him.

"You were very brave son," he pulled the boy close then and kissed his forehead. "You're a good boy Gerault, be careful."

"Thanks dad, I will."

Grigor held him long and hard before releasing him. Gerry left out the back and Efan took Janet to the parlor.

He faced Haf.

"Are you angry with me?" She stared up him expression solemn.

"Stand-up," he extended a hand to her and pulled her to her feet.

"It was a brave thing you did."

Haf smiled and Grigor frowned.

"But you're my daughter, not my son."

"-but dad-"

"No buts about it. You're my daughter, not my son. You're not being punished for being courageous and helping your family, but female prisoners will always be treated differently than male prisoners. They are afforded no honor, and perhaps by dressing you like this I have put you in greater danger still," he sighed and squeezed her shoulders. How could he make her understand? "There will be those who will want to put you in what they deem to be your proper place if they discover this ruse."

"Oh," she said voice soft. "Mom told me."

"In a situation like that darling I won't be able to protect you."

"I understand dad, but- but I wanted to protect you, and Gerry, and Janet."

He smiled.

"I know, baby, I know, but promise me you won't take that kind of risk in the future."

For a long time Haf was silent and then she took a step backwards, pulling the warmth of her hands from his.

"I won't promise that," she said, "because it would be a lie."

She took another step backwards then turned, and ran up the stairs. He would have gone after her, but the door slammed open.

"The woman, Janet, bring her out!" The Captian stood in the doorway fire in his eyes, face flushed red with outrage. "I'm turning her over to my men!"

Grigor took a deep breath and let the wheels in his mind spin. Janet could not be turned over to the crowd outside

"She's under arrest and will be tried by the laws of Camelot."

"Not good enough, she murdered one of my men."

"In defense of herself, a woman has a right to defend herself against a rapist."

"Your lucky this city hasn't been pillaged and every last single one of its women raped out our pleasure."

Grigor looked down and took a deep breath, marking this threat as one to be recalled at a later time, when things we different, and sooner or later they would be different, they always were.

"Be that as it may captain. You should consider something. Every man, woman, and child of Camelot is in the street right now."

"So."

"So, they're waiting to see what passes next, waiting to learn the limit of their pride. If your men take Janet, and put a noose around her neck they will learn and I promise you will have a riot in these streets."

The captain scoffed at these words, but looked away.

"Your soldiers will quell it, but some will be injured, some killed."

"More of your people than mine."

"I don't doubt it." Grigor said firmly."But it won't matter. The people will have seen the blood of Morgana's soldiers. It will have run red over their own pale, palms, and they will want to see more. The city will be that much harder to hold, and that's the sticking point right there isn't it Captain? Queen Morgana doesn't want to sack the city, she wants to hold it, rule it. Holding the city requires a certain agreement, a certain expectation that there will be some rule of law. Do _you_ want to test that for one soldier?"

The captain stared at him calmer now.

"Already they say Arthur still lives, already they say the northeastern lords are in revolt. What do you think a riot in this city will do when the people see Morgana's soldiers bleed red at their own hand? What will it mean for you and your ambition Captain?"

The captain took a breath.

"Very well the arrest will stand, but the queen will determine her fate. It is her army after all."

Grigor nodded, better than he had hoped.

"Now magistrate you have a meeting with the queen."

"What?" He stared; for once Grigor was caught off guard.

The captain smiled.

"The queen wants a word with you."

"Very well," Grigor turned and walked to the back of the house looking for his wife.

"Efan, I have an audience with Morgana," he said entering the kitchen. Grigor faced Janet who sat at the table eating the food Efan had given her. "Your arrest stands, but the captain wants you taken to the palace to be tried by the queen's court."

"Oh," she replied gray eyes wide.

"I'm sorry," Grigor looked away as he said it, unable to meet her eyes.

"That's all right," she wiped her small dark hands on a napkin and pushed to her feet. "I arranged my hanging the moment I stabbed him."

"Janet," Efan cried horror plain in her voice!

"At least I shan't be hung in the streets by that awful mob," she choked on the last words and started to sob.

"Oh Janet!" Efan went to the other woman and threw her arms around her.

The two women held each other for what seemed an eternity, both of them weeping, while he tried to think. Yeoman Grigor, Magistrate of Camelot, was unused to things not going his way, and he'd heard the sound of his wife's tears, of his friends tears all too often of late.

"Go and wait in the parlor Janet. I am going to pack you up some supper and give you a few coins for the guard."

Janet sniffed, her tears momentarily stopped.

"Thank you Efan," she said voice still hoarse, and then she turned and left.

"Morgana isn't going to show her any mercy," Efan said her voice a bare whisper.

Grigor looked at his wife then, saw her for just a moment not through the rose tinted lenses of love and adoration, but as she was. Face and eyes red from crying, hair threaded with more gray than it had been a scant month ago, arms wrapped tight about herself as if it would ward off all the pain of living as they did now. She was thinner than she'd been when all of this started looking less like the plump, happy wife of a successful man and more like a hardened woman too used to suffering.

"Efan, darling," he called her his own voice a choked whisper.

She looked at him, and gasped, distressed at what must have been written in his expression. And then her arms were around him, pressing him close, rocking him as if he were not her husband, but her child.

* * *

><p>So hey guys, I'm feeling pretty confident about being back. Like I managed three updates, and I have been able to consistently publish every three weeks. :D<p>

A quick note I called this chapter I Swear, because duty is a theme for all of the characters in this chapter.

Last summer I talked a bit about troubles I was having, some folks here, really stepped in and helped out, thank you. :D Things are a lot better right now that is part of why I am able to start publishing again. I have a job among other things. But money is still pretty tight. My best friend who is also my roommate has become disabled. Her parents are paying her half of the rent, but I'm handling everything else while she waits for disability. I also had to get a car, and while that was a yah! moment. Its also a boo!, because I now have car insurance, car note, etc...Unfortunately you can't really survive in this state without one. Anywho an online friend offered to be an angel in my life and asked me to put together a Christmas wish list. It's linked in my profile. If you've ever said you'd buy a book of The Exile here's a sort of indirect way for you to do so.

I've also been thinking of doing short fics for donations. Basically you send me a prompt, I agree to write a short for you, and you do a donation. Let me knowif you'd be interested in something like that. :D


	32. The Exile, A Pile of Plain White Stones

_**Previously in The Exile**_

The young man was thin, a match for her in height. He wore simple serge pants and a worn linen tunic with sleeves long enough to cover his hands easily. He had curling dark hair like so many others. The features of his face weren't of any note, what caught her attention were his eyes. They were the pale, crystal blue of a river on a frozen winter morning. They called to mind a memory flavored with the sweet odor of fever and the rank fragrance of fear. The child was twelve, perhaps thirteen years of age, but she knew him surely she did though she could not yet recall his name...

...Of all the people she'd ever hoped or wanted to see from Camelot she had certainly never imagined any of them walking into the hospice on her first day or work. Nor had her mind ever summoned this child, this boy, a victim of Uther's cruelty, to play a part any of her fancies. But she did indeed know him, knew those winter morning eyes.

_**"Mordred."... Chapter XXIX Dr. Gwen, Medicine Woman**_

* * *

><p><strong>The Exile, Part II:<strong>

**-Guinevere, Called Jenafere-**

**Chapter XXXII- A Pile of Plain, White Stones**

* * *

><p><strong><span>A Pile of Plain White Stones<span>**

"The two of you are familiar with each other, Ms. Jenafere?"

"I-I," Guinevere took a deep breath. It had always been possible that someone from her old life would appear in the hospice or anywhere in Wyeledon. "I met Mordred when he was still very young, but it has been some years since I saw him last." She thought of the scared, sick little boy. "I am glad you are well."

"Thanks to you." He turned his attention to Physician Pradeep. "Ms. Jen-_a_-fere," he paused as if weighing the name, "saved my life. I was much younger and very sick and very lonely. It is no surprise to find her working in a hospice." *

Gwen felt some of her tension ease; Mordred was not stupid. She hoped Pradeep would think nothing more of Mordred calling her Guinevere, rather than Jenafere, as a difference in pronunciation.

"No," Pradeep gave her an appraising look and smiled. "Now, young man, what is the trouble today?"

"My arm, sir, it is burnt." Mordred extended his left arm and pushed his sleeve up to his elbow to reveal a sturdy cotton bandage that covered his forearm from wrist to elbow.

He began unwrapping the bandage and Gwen grimaced at what she saw. The skin was dark in some places, raw and pink in others, still white in others, and there were several large yellowish blisters. She saw no signs of infection, but the injury looked new. If it became infected, he could very well lose the arm.

"Are you not in pain?" The physician leant across the table and beckoned him forward so he might make better study of the injury.

"I took some medicine, for it sir," Mordred said. Gwen recalled that he was a Druid; they had strong healing practices and traditions of their own.

"I can make up a salve for you," Pradeep offered shaking his head, a deep frown in his face.

"Thank you sir, but I am looking for Ylsa. I understood that she worked here."

"No," Pradeep looked up at him briefly. "I'm sorry, she works with us at times, but she deals only with midwifery."

"But you know where she might be found?" He looked at her then.

Gwen started feeling a mild sense of unease. Of course she knew where Ylsa might be found, but _how_ could Mordred know that?

"Ylsa is a midwife," Pradeep said.

"Yes, but she'll treat a friend. She has lived and studied with us. I just don't quite know where she is."

Physician Pradeep began to look very confused now.

"Mordred is a Druid." Gwen studied him feeling some uncertainty. "Ylsa spent some time studying with them during her travels."

"Yes, not many are gifted in the way that Ylsa is." The young man's tone was musing. "There is not much medicine that will heal this arm very well," Mordred said, "but I know that Ylsa can."

"He is correct in that," Pradeep said sitting back. "Perhaps we can round up Tony or one of the other boys to fetch Ms. Ylsa. Nurse Crissiant!" Pradeep called to the nurse in the receiving room.

A fair-skinned Welsh nurse dressed like all the others in a smock and cap opened the door. Gwen studied her trying to determine something remarkable so that she might more easily recall the woman's name in the future.

"Take Ms. Jenafere and the young man here to my work room. Show her where the burn salve is and then send for Tony or one of the other boys to send for Ylsa."

"Yes, Physician Pradeep." Crissiant's voice was warm, rich, unusually deep for a woman.

"Come along please," The nurse gestured, and Guinevere picked out the shimmer of white embroidery along her wrist and looking again she noticed the faint shimmer of white embroidery on Crissiant's cuffs, hem, neckline, and even her cap.

_Crissiant the nurse with the white-on-white embroidery and the rich voice._

Gwen and Mordred followed the nurse into the hall. Late afternoon sunlight gleamed on the shining wood panels. Here the scent of watermint and cinnamon that had been mixed with the oil soap used to polish the wood panels was strong.

"Have you been in Wyeledon very long, Ms. Jenafere?"

"Just a few short months."

The boy fell silent as they turned up the spiraling staircase that led to Physician Pradeep's work room.

"Mordred, have you been well over the years?" Gwen asked.

"Yes."

"Good, good," she smile. "I worried sometimes since you were not taken to family that there might not be a place for you or that those who took care of you would not be kind to you."

"You worried?"

His pale face pinkened, and Gwen smiled a true smile now.

Over the years she had often wondered what had become of the child. The attachment between he and Morgana had been very strong, but she had helped the other woman nurse him. He had been so very small and sweet and so alone. That Arthur had gotten him away to his people in some mysterious wood was all she had ever known and all she ever expected to know, in truth.

"Of course, you were a child in my care who'd lost his father. We had very much trouble taking care of you, but I wished only good things for you."

"Thank you, Ms. Jenafere," Mordred ducked his head now.

They reached the door of Pradeep's work room. Gwen and Mordred followed the nurse inside. Crissiant went directly to one of the cabinets on the far wall. Guinevere watched her taking note of which cabinet and shelf she pulled bottles from. In addition to the plants Pradeep's study was crowded with bottles, scrolls, and medical tools

"His collection is beautiful," Mordred remarked admiring the plants.

Gwen took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet, earthy scent that always fragranced Pradeep's study. She shared a smile with Mordred and surveyed Pradeep's lush collection plants.

"Here," Crissiant pointed toward a wooden table two stools in the outer chamber of Pradeep's study. She set a jar of thick yellow salve, and fresh bandages on the table.

"Thank you," Guinevere said.

"You are welcome," Crissiant's eyes went to Mordred's arm and lingered there a moment before returning to Gwen. "Would you like some help?"

"No, I've treated serious burns before." She thought of those who survived the dragon's attack on the city and wondered what the Druids did to treat severe burns.

"Very well," the nurse smiled. "Here is a bottle of watermint wash." Crissiant handed her a bottle from Pradeep's work table and left. "Sit," Gwen directed Mordred to a stool in the larger of Pradeep's two rooms.

She opened the salve, laid out a puff of cotton, and set out a bandage. Once her hands were cleaned she didn't want to have to go looking for anything else. She poured a palmful of Ylsa's wash and rubbed very thoroughly between her palms, along her fingers and down her wrist. Any part of her that might come into contact with Mordred's injury needed to be well cleansed.

"Mordred," Gwen asked the moment Crissiant was out of the room, "how is it that you knew I might know where Ylsa would be found?"

"Oh that's easy," the boy smiled. "My magic, sometimes I See things."

_"See?"_

"Things that haven't happened yet, things that might never happen, things that are happening now, but far away, or even things that happened long ago." He shrugged and Gwen stared at him.

"Just like that?"

"Usually, they are things that are somehow important to me. I kept seeing you and Ylsa walking the streets of Wyeledon arm in arm and ending up here."

"Oh," Gwen felt an uncomfortable little shiver.

"I don't see things that aren't important to me." Mordred explained, leaning forward. "I don't see people, say," he paused searching for his next words."I don't see people sneaking the last of the sugar from the tin or other private sins."

Gwen felt her face grow hot.

"Wha- why would you say that?"Guinevere cocked her head to one side watching Mordred intently, he was much too sure, too at ease for a child.

"People always think of their wrongs when they learn of my magic."

"Oh."

"Was _Seeing_ not Morgana's gift?"

She nodded.

"What did she ever see?"

Gwen considered that Morgana had never seen her trying on her dresses to be sure.

"She saw someone trying to kill Arthur once. Another time she saw a sorcerer trying to raise monsters in Camelot. And once," Guinevere frowned, "she told me once how she dreamt again and again of an old woman in the woods spinning wool into yarn, it never made sense."

"Those would have been things that were important to her. If her maid ever shirked on her chores- it was probably never important if a little dust was swept under a rug," Mordred shrugged and leaned back resting against the stone wall behind him.

"Well, I never did that sort of thing," Gwen said primly as she sat down on a stool in front of him. "Let me see your arm?"

She dipped the puff of cotton into the salve. "This will hurt a bit."

"It smells good." He sniffed and smiled, and the man was replaced by a boy again. "I think about you, the four of you a lot." He was smiling again as if considering something pleasant.

"The four of us?" Gwen asked set

He nodded. "You, Merlin, Pr- King Arthur, and the Lady Morgana."

Gwen felt herself frown at the mention of her former mistress' name.

"It is true, then; she opposed Uther and now King Arthur?" Mordred's smile had vanished, and he looked very thoughtful.

"Yes."With careful fingers, she took hold of his arm.

"The rumors reached us. It is an argument amongst my people now. Should we turn to violent ways or perish?"

He didn't sound like a twelve year-old, but then he was a twelve year-old living in dangerous times, under constant threat with an ability that let him _See_ things. Uther had certainly stolen Elyan's childhood; perhaps Mordred's -by Uther or this ability had been stolen too.

"What do you think?" She _met_ his crystal blue eyes and realized it was again his left arm that had been injured.

_-Guinevere brushed the boy's hair back from his sweat-dampened forehead. She had finally coaxed her exhausted mistress into taking a rest. Still someone had to sit up with the fevered child. She did not believe this defiance of Uther to be wise, but- Mordred let out a pained groan. and she sighed._

_He was child, a fatherless child. His icy blue eyes opened and met hers.-_

"I don't know. My people are hunted and killed wherever we go; peacefulness is no longer valued, no longer helps. My father," he paused a moment his crystal blue eyes distant, "was beheaded." He shook his head. "Wasn't your father also killed, Ms. Guinevere?"*

Guinevere stared at him for a stunned moment.

"And I suppose you saw that as well?"

"I saw you crying over him, I saw Prince Arthur helping you."

"Bu- but why?"

"I don't know perhaps, because the choices Prince Arthur makes affect me, because they affect all Druids. I don't know. I did not desire to intrude."

Guinevere nodded, she supposed that made sense. Were it not for her father's unjust death she mightn't have been able to convince Arthur to save the lives of Gaius, Merlin, and Morgana. _And Morgana's actions had affected them all, perhaps even Mordred._

"You are not angry?"

"No," Gwen said.

She worked on his arm in silence for a his original question.

"I do not know the answer to your question Mordred, but this is what I know." She looked up from his arm and met his eyes pale blue eyes. "I've seen suffering inflicted both by those who have magic and those who do not, and the thing that I have noticed is that the people who inflict the suffering often suffer very little themselves." She met his eyes for a moment. "They have some hardships. No life is without loss, but powerful people like King Uther or Lady Morgana _or_ Morgause are all too often safe, and seem to feel that their personal unhappiness is reason enough to inflict decades, if not centuries, of torment on hundreds of thousands of others." Keeping her touch gentle and light, Gwen began to dab the salve along the burn. "It is the people- like myself, my father, my brother, your father, people who have little or no power, people who do not make decisions that are the ones- who must give everything; because the powerful have suffered some momentary unhappiness." She drew in a deep breath and suppressed the anger stirring at her own words. "I've seen far more farmers, squires, and infantryman killed in any of these wars than any other, regardless of whether or no they have magic or what they think of it."

A ghost of a smiled traced his features then, and he nodded.

"It is true what you say. Tell me, is King Arthur like his father, or do you think he will cease the persecution of magic?"

Gwen looked down, away. No one had spoken with her so openly about Arthur in months.

"He seemed a just man," the boy prodded.

"Yes," she nodded thinking of the conversation she'd had with Arthur about whether or not he should use magic to heal his father. He'd been so hurt and broken when Uther died. Feeling that it was his fault for making a different choice than what he had thought Uther might have done. "It seemed to me that King Arthur wants to believe that there can be good or evil in everyone, but all that he has ever seen of magic is evil."

Mordred winced as she came upon a particularly sensitive spot.

"Sorry." She shifted the cotton puff and dabbed a clean side into the salve again.

"What about you, Ms. Guinevere? What do you think about magic?"

"You are full of questions." Gwen's gentle smile canceled any chastisement in her tone. "I do not know any longer," she admitted. "I thought it was evil once." Her brows drew together in a frown, and she wondered how it felt for him to hear her say that. "I know now that that was wrong. I have seen it do much good since I have come here, though I still have my misgivings. I do not trust my fellow men to resist the temptation of its power."

"Yes, those with magic bear a great responsibility." Mordred muttered the words in such a way as to suggest he was repeating something he'd heard often.

"I think if King Arthur could come here, see how the people live, and see how much magic helps them, I believe he would begin to think differently," Guinevere said at last.

"You believe that," the young man asked with a yawn, and Gwen noticed the dark circles under his eyes.

"Yes. He was willing to fight for you to have a chance." Gwen felt herself smiling.

"He did save my life." Mordred yawned again. "Tell me, Ms. Gwen, was Merlin well when you left Camelot?"

"He seemed so."

Mordred smiled again, and Gwen continued to dress his burn.

"How did you get burnt so badly?"

"Boiling pot."

Gwen winced. "We're all done; all you need now is the bandage."

"You really are good at this."

Gwen looked up for a moment and saw that he was smiling again.

"Thank you." Wrapping the bandage was a bit faster than applying the salve. Once the wound was covered, she made sure the ends were tucked and secured and lifted his arm to investigate her handiwork only to gasp in surprise at what she saw on the upper part of his arm.

"Mordred,- what?"

"It's nothing!" He pulled his arm away and yanked his sleeve back down.

"But those bruises?" They were ugly blue, black, purple and green-, color only brought on by great force.

"It's nothing. Just boys horsing around."

Gwen frowned.

"Ms. Jen!" Young Tony's voice floated through the door as he knocked.

"Come in, Tony."

"Hi, Ms. Jen," Tony grinned at her, dark eyes bright. "Ms. Ylsa said you should just bring Mordred back to the townhouse with you when you finish your shift, if you don't mind."

Gwen nodded.

"Yes, very well."

"Tony, that's your name, right?" Mordred asked.

The boy nodded.

"Would you be willing to take me now?"

"Well, yes, but Ms. Ylsa is with one of her mother's right now."

"Oh, I see. Thank you."

"Mordred, why don't you lie down here." Gwen pointed to the narrow cot Physician Pradeep had in his study. "Rest while I finish my shift.

"I'm not really tired."

Gwen suppressed a smile. He was still young enough to resist the pull of weariness.

"You need it to recover faster." Gwen nudged him toward the cot. "You do want to get well, right?"

"Yes," he admitted.

"All right, then, get some rest."

He lay down on Pradeep's cot. Gwen closed the shutters on Pradeep's windows, and put the burn salve, and watermint wash. Mordred was dozing by the time she walked out the door.

* * *

><p>Ylsa fell silent, staring at Mordred's burnt flesh, her lips pursed into a tight line that told Gwen the other was near bursting with speech.<p>

They were in the still, the only room in the house that they could be certain would have no interruptions. Mordred lay back on the wooden bench while Ylsa sat on a stool beside him. Gwen held a high candle to shed it's flickering light of Mordred's wound and allow Ylsa to do her examination in the otherwise dim light of the still.

The midwife licked her lips and shot Gwen a glance full with meaning before returning her eyes to her patient.

"Of course, I will help you, Mordred." She gave the boy a reassuring smile. "You're not having much pain?"

He shook his head.

"Good. For this type of damage, I will have to go into a trance. I need a few moments to prepare. Just rest here."

"I will. Thank you, Ms. Ylsa."

"Happily." Ylsa started toward the door, turning to Gwen before stepping into the hallway. "Jen, can you help me gather a few things?"

"Of course." Gwen gave Mordred a nod and then followed Ylsa out of the still. As soon as they were downstairs and out of earshot, Ylsa rounded on her, eyes blazing.

"We cannot let him go back to his people."

"What?" Gwen had seen the bruises on Mordred's arm, but surely Ylsa did not think he was being hurt on purpose. "Ylsa-"

"No! His father, the man Uther murdered, by all accounts, was a good man. The man looking after him now," Ylsa shook her dark head, hands clenched into fist.

"You think he did that on purpose?"

"Yessss!" The word came out in a hiss.

"But that would mean- he might lose the arm!" Gwen declared horror dawning on her.

"He probably would if I were not nearby." The midwife shook her head again and rubbed her hand across her eyes as if to wipe what she had seen from her mind. "Children with powerful magic-" she stopped mid-sentence.

"Ylsa …" Gwen started and fell silent not at all certain of what to say.

"I just need a few moments to calm myself."

Gwen nodded.

"The best healing magic comes through love, not rage." Ylsa's eyes drifted toward the still. "He needs that right now. Give me but a few moments.

"Of course."

Gwen nodded. Seeing the hideous blue-black, and green bruises had caused her to wonder, but the idea that someone would inflict such a terrible injury on a child- It wasn't unheard of course- Gwen felt her stomach twist and the stirring of bile in the back of her throat. She'd seen those with power abuse those with less, but the wanton cruelty behind the act…Ylsa seemed certain though. Guinevere looked back at the midwife.

Her dark eyes were closed, and she leant against the wall, chest rising and falling at a slow and even pace.

She'd never seen the other woman so angry. Even Tesni's mother-in-law had not invoked such rage. Ylsa opened her eyes.

"Come on." The midwife smiled small and soft." Let us go and tend our patient."

They found Mordred sitting as they had left him, a faraway look in his eyes.

"Jen, why don't you sit on the bench?" Ylsa returned to the stool she'd been sitting on earlier.

Mordred extended his injured arm toward her, but Ylsa shook her head.

"I do not need to touch you, and I don't want to cause you any further injury with involuntary movement while I am in trance."

The boy nodded.

"Mordred, you know how to go into trance?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good. Jen," Ylsa turned toward her, "there is no danger, but I could cause Mordred undo pain if we are suddenly interrupted."

"Don't worry."

"Let us begin." Ylsa gave Mordred a small nod and closed her eyes. The boy did the same.

Nothing happened at first, and Gwen's mind drifted to her assignments: the skeleton she needed to draw, Aristotle, Pradeep's logs. She knew nothing about drawing. Of all the assignments, that one worried her the most. All of her drawing had been with a stick in the dirt and not a one of them worth remembering. Could she embroider a skeleton? She was good at embroidery.

Mordred whimpered, starting Guinevere out of her reverie. Her eyes went immediately to the boy's arm, and Gwen gasped at what she saw.

She hadn't been able to see Ylsa's magic acting on Tesni or the bandit, only the result. The changes to Mordred's arm, though, were quite visible. Blistered, sore, swollen, the dry discolored flesh began to swell with blood and grow red. Gwen thought it might be hot to the touch. The blood gathered round the edges of the worst of the burn and began to darken before her eyes like a bruise or a scab.

He whimpered again, though he did not awaken. Gwen wondered if he was in very much pain.

The more she saw, the faster the changes came. The dark line of blood took on the appearance of a scab, and the flesh on the other side grew dark. green and black.

"Necrotic," she whispered and did not realize she'd spoken aloud until she heard Ylsa's whispered yes.

Her eyes flicked to the other woman. The midwife was awake now, her dark eyes clouded.

"He'll sleep for a while yet."

"What about his arm? What did you do?" Gwen asked, her mind filling questions.

"Well, the dead flesh was too badly burned. Left on its own process, the worst of the burn would have taken some days to wither and die, possibly poisoning the the rest of his arm in the process."

Gwen nodded. She'd seen that with some of the worst burn victims after the dragon attacked Camelot.

"Now, we'll take off the dead flesh."

"Don't we need to prepare or clean?"

"Nope. The withered flesh can't feel any pain, and the scab grown here will protect the body from any possible infection."

"Oh."

Ylsa smiled and picked up her knife.

"He'll sleep right through it."

When the necrotic flesh was removed Gwen helped Ylsa clean and bandage the wound before going into a second trance. In the second trance she encouraged the protective scab to begin breaking up. The break-up would take a few days. When that was done she would encourage new flesh to grow replacing the burnt skin and muscle they'd cut out of his arm. Guinevere covered the sleeping boy with a blanket thinking for a moment of all those years ago when he'd been sick and in their care Camelot.

_What would have become of Morgana if she had been left to join the druids rather than fall into the hands of Morguase? What would have come of Morgana if her magic had been like Ylsa's?_

"Jen, we needn't sit with him," Ylsa said. "You can if you like, of course."

Her stomach rumbled reminding her that she hadn't eaten and then her feet started to ache. Perhaps after she'd eaten and rested, she'd sit beside him with one of her medical books.

"You are right it is long past dinner."

"Yes," Ylsa said. The two women left the still and headed for the kitchen. Supper had already been eaten and served, but Luisa had prepared plates for both of them.

"Ylsa," Gwen asked as they sat down in the empty dining room. "Could you cause someone that had had an arm amputated to grow a new one?"

For a moment the other woman stared at her and then laughed.

"No my friend, that is something beyond me." Ylsa shook her head. "I can only help the body do what it already does. While we do not typically grow new muscle our bodies are in a state of constantly rebuilding and renewing our existing muscle it takes only a little push to encourage the process to grow new muscle." Ylsa paused to eat one of the raw figs on her plate.

Gwen frowned. "How is it that bones are different? If a bone breaks our body repairs it. Surely that process is akin."

The midwife swallowed her food.

"Yes and no, that is only a small repair, the fluid in bone rejoins itself. Almost," she paused here, "like a glue, it cannot however grown new bone."

"Oh," Gwen poked out her lips thinking over that.

"Our bones were in a very different state when they first formed in the sea of our mother's blood, when we emerge into the world it is a state that cannot be recreated." The midwife shook her head and there seemed a bit of sadness in her tone.

"You wish it to be otherwise."

"Oh yes. If you could understand world as I do you would know the true miracle that occurs when a child grows inside it's mother," Ylsa explained. "The blood, the nurturing period in our mothers' wombs is a miracle. If we could recreate that miracle. all illness, all injury, all frailty could be repaired. There would be no suffering, not in our bodies anyway."

"Hmmm."

They continued eating in silence for a while and then Ylsa gasped as if startled.

"I never asked, with all the excitement, but how was your first day at the hospice?"

Gwen couldn't help but smile Mordred, and his arm momentarily forgotten.

"It was great. It was really, truly great. Pradeep is more patient than I would have expected, and I already have useful knowledge to draw upon. Thank you, Ylsa; thank you for all your all help." She held her friend's eyes. "I know I said so earlier, but I will say it again I would not have done this without you," Gwen shook her head. "I _could_ not have done this without you. I do not think I have ever had a friend so dear as you, Ylsa."

The midwife smiled as she tried to form a response, but it seemed she could find no words before finally throwing her hands up in defeat.

"For once I have nothing to say."

"You don't have to say anything."

"Very well." After a moment, Ylsa continued eating, and Gwen did the same. The two friends sat in comfortable silence.

* * *

><p>Guinevere let Aristotle's heavy medical tome serve as a tray for a pitcher of water, two cups, a dish of stewed pears, brown bread, and cheese. The muffled sound of music reached her from the parlor about reached her ears. Synove had mentioned something about herself and a friend practicing for the party tonight. Guinevere was more than tempted to join them, but there was work to be done.<p>

She had decided to sit with Mordred while she did some of her reading. Ylsa had suggested that she have a tray of food on hand and fresh water in case he awoke. One of the effects of Ylsa's magic was that speeding the body through its healing process was draining. Patients often slept for extended periods of time and needed increased food to restore drained reserves. If he woke again during the night Gwen would be ready.

The boy had woken briefly, and they had moved him from the still to the guest room on the second floor. Gwen balanced her book-tray on one hand and knocked lightly with the other. When no answer was forthcoming, she entered.

Guinevere had left a candle burning on a little table beside the bed, and now the candle was joined by the water and food. She took a moment to study Mordred in the candle light. He lay in the center of a bed large enough for two or three, his face pale, but calm, peaceful. If he felt any pain, he showed no sign of it. Gwen sat down in the chair beside the bedside table, medical tome still in hand, her eyes on Mordred.

Like most he looked younger in his sleep. His face smooth, relaxed almost the same as the child she'd helped Morgana and Merlin to nurse, almost the same as the boy Arthur had saved.

_-"You're not involved in this are you!?" Her father's demand when he'd learnt of Morgana's failed escape._

_"Understand my Gwennie, I don't want anything to happen to you."_

_His barrel chest, strong arms, hand cradling the back of her head. Safe with her father- -he'd be dead in a month's time killed by the same injustice that had sentenced a child to die-_

Guinevere took a deep breath; she needed to study.

-"You'll understand what life is if you think about the act of dying."-

Guinevere rolled her eyes. Was this truly her assignment?

*-"When I die, how will I be different from the way I am right now? In the first moments after death, my body will be scarcely different in physical terms than it was in the last seconds of life, but I will no longer move, no longer sense, nor speak, nor feel, nor care. It's these things that are life. At that moment, the psyche takes flight in the last breath"-

_His burial cairn, a pile stones. Elyan wasn't there. Lancelot wasn't there. the neighbors avoiding her out of fear, Merlin mysteriously absent- somehow, though, Prince Arthur-_

_-The Prince of Camelot, piling stones for a peasant's grave-_

-but he had saved Mordred and not her father.

Gwen resisted the well of emotions, busied herself checking on Mordred. Sometimes a patient might become fevered after a healing trance. He wasn't; his breathing was slow and normal.

Not her father, but-

_-The Prince of Camelot making all haste to rescue a girl that -surely, no one else cared about. A peasant maid whose life had already been written off by her king._

_-you don't have to be afraid. I won't let anything happen to you-_

And Elyan, he had saved Elyan too. And -_Elyan had looked down his nose at her_.

Guinevere rubbed her forehead, in a failed effort to ease the tension gathering there.

She did not want to think about Elyan-

_-as he looked down his nose at her-_

or Merlin-

_-eyes gray as the sky, melancholy and sad-_

or Arthur today-

_his back broad and mailed, confronting her was an act of war, "I really can't care."_

_-"in the end you'll love these things as well if you let yourself."_

Father Flaejer was right. She had a home, a wardrobe, a position, and even friends. Suddenly wanting friends, comfort during her unhappiness, Gwen took a final glance at Mordred and set her book down.

A cheerful tune, as light as she was heavy greeted her, upon leaving the guest room and Gwen started down the stairs familiar enough with the townhouse now to need only the dim light of setting sun to navigate it's stairs and halls. The song was one of the formal dances of the court. _What kind of party was this going to be?_

She found Synove and another dark-haired woman in the parlor. Neither bothered with the chairs or padded bench for seating, preferring, instead to sit on the parlor floor amidst a collection of cushions and pillows. It was not yet fully dark, and the last rays of the dying sun leant a faint orange glow to the white candlelight. The song they were playing came to an, end and the stranger frowned.

"It's not right."

Gwen hadn't noticed anything amiss.

"You're overdoing it at the end," Synove said. "You do this," she demonstrated, "when you should do this."

If there was a difference, Guinevere could not detect, but the other woman did.

The stranger sighed then smiling leaned toward Synove.

"If only I'd have had you for a teacher."

"Well," Synove smiled and then seemed to preen before fluttering her eyelashes at the other woman. "You've got me now."

Gwen started to walk away, feeling as if she were an intruder, but the moment passed and the stranger started to play again, practicing the fingering Synove had suggested. Guinevere fidgeted where she stood and Synove looked up.

"Hi Jen," Synove greeted her with a little smile. "This is my friend Rosaline. Rosaline, this is Jen. We're practicing the music for Ms. Alfonsa's party."

"Oh."

"You're welcome to join us. We could use an audience."

"Yes, we surely could, and Synove has told me a lot about you. I'm deathly curious about Camelot," Rosaline said.

"Thank you, but I'm quite tired. I'm unused to a full day of work," Gwen explained.

"Of course, you don't want to sit up and listen to our plucking," Rosaline gave a self-deprecating smile and under any other circumstances Guinevere probably would have taken a liking to her right then.

"Do either of you know where Ylsa is? I have a bit of a headache."

"She went upstairs," Synove explained. "She is probably asleep."

"Of course," Gwen said, and she could almost hear a quaver in her voice. "She had a long day and took care of Mordred at the end of it."

"Jen, are you unwell?" A frown creased Synove's brow,and Gwen could see her getting ready to flutter all about, being some cross between a mother hen and a wounded bird.

"No, I am just tired," she forced a smile. "Long day- I am unused to it."

"Of course. I never asked how it went.""Tomorrow, Synove, tomorrow." She turned then and hurried away unable to tolerate another moment.

Gwen went upstairs to their shared bedroom, hoping that just maybe her friend was still awake. She found the midwife fast asleep, dark hair covered with a soft muslin cap.

"Ylsa," she said the other woman's name in a loud whisper. Perhaps she'd only just closed her eyes.

When there was no reply, Gwen sighed and walked into the bedroom, the white light of the moon her only candle. She stood over Ylsa's bed a moment, studying her, peaceful and relaxed in sleep. Finally she pursed her lips and sat across from the other woman on her own bed. Ylsa was always running hither and tither after her mothers. It would be selfish to wake her.

"Ylsa, wake-up," Gwen whispered, hoping the other woman would hear, but truly, not wanting to disturb her friend.

"I met Mordred in Camelot," she murmured tugging at the ties on her linen cap. "Uther had his father killed, would've killed him as well, but we- no I was too much a coward in those days- Merlin and Morgana saved him, hid him, and protected him. Arthur smuggled him out of Camelot. I only watched it unfold. I didn't find any true courage until later when my own father was killed by the same unjust laws that killed Padrig, killed Mordred's father." Guinevere stood and shrugged out of her linen smock. "Prince Arthur always had so much courage. He risked everything for his friends, for his servants. He saved my life, my brother's- It's part of why I fell in love with him." Gwen shrugged, leant back on one elbow, a slight smile on her face.

_"-I relinquish my right to the throne."_

She'd been stunned into disbelieving confusion in the moment, but later- _oh later, out of danger- _Guinevere began undoing the hooks on her surcoat.

She'd been in rapturous heaven. Surely she did not want Arthur to give up his throne, but she could have died from ecstasy -_had _many times. Her smile grew for a moment, but again her mind wandered to that burial cairn.

_-they put him into the earth and marked his grave with a pile of white stones-_

_"It is isolated here and beautiful. You can look down into the lower town," Arthur pointed down. "Your house is there."_

_She couldn't see it in the darkness, but she believed him._

_"I can see this hillock from town as well."_

_"Yes-"_

"He was there when my father died; Morgana too, but- I mean for me. They would not bury him in the church graveyard. He was considered a criminal. Merlin had agreed to help me take care of Father's body, agreed that I should meet him in the Prince's chamber at the end of his shift. When I went to look for him, he wasn't there. Instead Arthur found me, crying. I was much too distraught to be the meek, humble servant, hiding my sorrow for the convenience of the mighty."

"When he asked what was wrong, I told him the truth. _I_ cried on Prince Arthur's shoulder, and in the middle of the night, he came to my home with two mute servants and together the four of us crept out of Camelot and raised his funeral cairn." Her lip curled in the barest hint of a smile at the memory. "He is a good man."

_-She could not let him kill Lancelot. He was angry now, when his anger was gone he would remember that Lancelot saved his life, remember how much Lancelot had sacrificed for Camelot, he would find it unjust; he would not forgive himself-_

_She did not think beyond that. If there was one thing Guinevere knew with all heart it was that Arthur would not hurt her. She used that now. Threw herself between the two men._

In later days, she would wonder if she should have let him kill Lancelot then and there, because she had been right: Arthur would never hurt her, and they both knew it.

And it was that that shattered and broke his heart. The thought, the idea, that she had turned his love against him to save another. In just that moment, everything in him came to a stop. And Gwen knew she had broken him-

"He is a good man," she said it in the barest, tear choked whisper. "He did not deserve what I did to him. He did not deserve that from me. I don't deserve his forgiveness. He loved me."

She started to cry then, not the loud, broken, heart rending sobs torn out of her after she'd nearly drowned, but a stream of bitter grieving tears that could not be checked.

"Jen?"

It was Ylsa's voice soft, raspy, and confused with sleep, that reached her. Gwen started and wiped at her face trying desperately to muffle the flow of tears.

"You're crying?" Ylsa sat up now.

"No." The tears continued their steady trickle and Gwen shook her head at her own lie. "Yes. I'm sorry; I didn't want to wake you."

Ylsa got out of bed then.

"You just called me your best friend. I think perhaps it is all right to wake me if you need me."

"But you're always being woken up by your mothers." Gwen felt her bed shift under Ylsa's weight as the other woman settled beside her.

"Yeah, yeah," Ylsa shrugged, "life of a midwife." Ylsa put her arms around her with those words and Gwen felt an immediate lessening of her unhappiness. "What hurts?"

Ylsa hadn't heard anything she'd said?

"I was just thinking about my father, about Mordred's father." She took a deep breath. "He and I have something in common. Our fathers were executed by Uther for sorcery."

"Jen." She could hear piteous sorrow in Ylsa's voice.

"My father had no knowledge of how to practice magic." She heard Ylsa gasp, but went on. "He committed no crime; he was an innocent man. The alchemist took advantage of his ignorance."

"Oh, my God, my poor, dear Jen. Cry as much as you want." Ylsa stroked her hair and kissed her forehead. "Cry as much as you want."

She could have laughed at Ylsa's words were she not so unhappy. In that moment Guinevere could no more have stopped crying than she could have grown wings to fly. But it was easier somehow to let the tears flow with Ylsa there. Easier to sit and let Ylsa rub her back and shoulders, and tut-tut in her ear. Easier to let herself cry and be soothed until she was wrung out, and Ylsa's small brown hands were tucking her into sleep.

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><p>*S01x08 The Beginning of the End<p>

*S01x12 To Kill the King

additional notes- so I meant to add this note when I published this chapter, but I forgot, sorry. Anywho I was looking at one of the many s5 pics of Gwen and Elyan at Tom's grave and I got to wondering how the hell Gwen got him out there. S1 Gwen doesn't have money or resources. Burying people or preventing them from being buried in certain places was a big thing in the ancient and medieval world. Like the whole plot of Antigone is where will her brother's body be laid to rest and people die to get the man a proper burial or prevent one.

One of the things I learned in researching the medieval period is that there was very little consistency. What might be rule of law in one city, town or kingdom was opposite in another. But obviously in Camelot criminals are not buried in church graveyards nor cremated in boat ceremonies. My guess is that criminals are simply left to rot and its up to their families to take on the burden of burying them. Under this scenario I think both Merlin or Morgana are obvious choices to help Gwen, but well the Arwen shipper in me started jumping up and down and waving her arms about screaming "Arthur! Arthur!"

She then calmly explain that Morgana and Merlin were busy with Morgana's assasination plot leaving only Arthur. She then reminded me that Arthur said he would do anything to help Gwen out with her father and further pointed out that something more should account for Gwen's changing attitudes about Arthur and finally being in love with him in season 2.

So voila, Arthur not only helped her bury Tom, but also recommended the spot, because it has a direct line of sight from the lower town as well as into town.

Another play I thought about while writing this chapter or a specific line from a play was Hamlet. I don't know if you guys know the play Hamlet really well, but there is a fairly famous line in Act 5, Scene 2 from Benedick to Beatrice:

I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy  
>eyes—<p>

;)

Betad this week by Sonja, and Shanel. Yep I need lots of help. :D

I hope everyone is having a great holiday. As always I want to know what you think about this update. How do you feel about Ylsa and Gwen's friendship? I think she needs a bff myself. And yeah Mordred is gonna be with us for a little while, but whether that bodes well or ill you'll just have to keep reading to see.


	33. Chapter 33: The Queen's Time

Hey everyone latest update, yah! I decided this chapter to visit with some characters we don't see as much as well as advance some important plot points from other character POVs. There is also a very brief classic Doctor Who reference (blink and you'll miss it), and a pun masquerading as a tense error. :D There are a couple of triggers warnings at the listed in the author notes at the bottom, so check those if you need 'em. Finally as always thanks so much for reading and please leave me a review. Now onto Chapter 33 The Queen's Time.

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><p><em><strong>Previously in The Exile:<strong>_

For a long moment Arthur stared down at her body. She was broken it seemed in a hundred different places. Limbs bent at strange unnatural angles, eyes sightless, it looked so painful. He sighed and crouched beside her. He wanted to speak but the heaviness of his heart would not let him part his lips. Arthur ignored the crowd gathering in the courtyard and touched gentle fingertips to her lids. He shut her eyes and covered her face with the rough white canvass..._**The Exile, Chapter XII, And the Truth Will Out**_

"He's a beautiful animal."

The girl looked up and saw one of the soldiers standing in the doorway watching her with deep set pale gray eyes and crossed arms. Her mother had told her to avoid the soldiers; they were mercenaries not to be trusted. Haf rose, still holding onto her pet, uncertain about what she would do next.

"Hefin, right?"

"Yes." It was a boy's name, but so similar to her own that her common nickname, Haf, would raise no suspicion.

"Well, Hefin, my name is Leofren, but you can call me Leo if you like. Thank you for making up the room."...

Leofren strode across the room and halted close enough for her to smell mead and a faint scent of myrtle. She started to take a step back, but the bed was just behind her. He was a tallish man, taller than she but not as tall as her father, and his dark hair was thinning. He had a narrow straight nose and thin lips.

"Cats are perfect hunters."

She nodded.

"Perfect killers."..._**The Exile, Chapter XXI, Spring Flowers**_

Leofren and Gerry, with swords and armor, were fighting. She watched Gerry try to guard, try to sidestep, try to get his shield up, watched him give ground…Saw Leofren swat him with the flat of the blade more than once and though he wore armor, from the way Gerry cried out at those swats, she was certain they would leave marks. Finally her brother stumbled backwards and lost his footing. He yielded and Haf breathed a sigh of relief. She ran to her brother's side even as Leofren helped him up.

"Are you hurt, Gerry?"

Leofren laughed….._**The Exile, Chapter XXI, Spring Flowers**_

"Janet."

She opened her eyes; it was almost entirely dark in her little room. The light of the half moon spilled in through the bedroom window. Nacio was sitting on the edge of her bed; his pale eyes glittered in the moonlight. She sat up fully awake.

"Nacio," she said pulling the thin coverlet over her bare body. "What are you doing here?" Fear began to churn in her stomach, while she waited for his answer..._**Chapter XXII, Wartime Tales, The Blighted Blossom**_

"Efan, I have an audience with Morgana," he said entering the kitchen. Grigor faced Janet who sat at the table eating the food Efan had given her. "Your arrest stands, but the captain wants you taken to the palace to be tried by the queen's court."

"Oh," she replied gray eyes wide.

"I'm sorry," Grigor looked away as he said it, unable to meet her eyes.

"That's all right," she wiped her small dark hands on a napkin and pushed to her feet. "I arranged my hanging the moment I stabbed him."..._**The Exile, Chapter XXXI, I Swear**_

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><p><strong>The Exile<strong>

**-Part II: Guinevere Called Jenafeare-**

**Chapter XXXIII : The Queen's Time**

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><p><em>-They smashed pottery, jam, pickled fish into the dirt, ground them under boots, into clothes, and bed linens. She'd never witnessed such wanton destruction. And the screaming-<em>

_She followed the sound somehow; and saw a girl -naked, perhaps fourteen years of age- running from the soldier's camp. Cheers, hooting, laughter followed and there was more screaming. One of the soldiers pissed on a man's corpse.-_

_-Her own face looked back at her. Behind -brush in hand- stood a darker skinned woman. For a confused moment, she thought the women was Gwen, but this woman had blonde hair and gray eyes. _

_"I'm sorry, your majesty. I'm no good at this."_

_"Of course not," she turned to the other woman and took her hand. "You are to serve me, but as my apprentice, not my maid," Morgana shook her head with a smile. "No, you're no Guinevere." _

_"Certainly not majesty," the woman declared, tone affronted.-_

_-The helmed man was surely Arthur, and his army -though motley- covered the hillside. But she did not worry. Camelot was secure, her magic strong. _

_And then he pulled the sword, thrusting it aloft._

_Sunlight broke through the clouds, to be caught on the metal of the blade. The light bounced back at them, blinding, and bright. They ducked, shielded their eyes, or lost their sight altogether.-_

_-the wound in her back burned with fiery pain, while her fleshed burned from fevered infection. The only thing keeping her alive was the healing bracelet and-_

_-Gwen knelt before Arthur arrayed in gleaming purple, and creamy delicate lace, only to be raised to his side as queen-_

_-the man's face was smeared with dirt, his bushy thick beard and hair littered with bits of broken leaves and twigs, and so was the rest of him and beneath it the darkening stain of thick sticky blood. But she did not shrink back when his bloodied hands reached out to her, nor was she surprised at their gentleness._

_"When Morgana, when was the last time you were the most important? Probably not since the death of the father you rejected. Tintagel is not in Arthur's domain. Morgana give up your ambitions and let me take care of you."_

_She was so tired, so alone, so lost-_

Clean linens, soft bed, a mound of pillows...Morgana smiled and ran her fingers over the soft, familiar lambswool blanket. She had her own bed and chambers back, but the luxury, the comfort had not yet grown stale. She revelled in the feel of softness against her skin, instead of the cold stone from her dream.

She had dreamed true. The sorceress frowned and concentrated; it was important to remember when you dreamed true. She'd been lying on the floor-

-At that moment her chamber door rattled under a pounding fist.

"Urgent news, your majesty!" Helios' shout came to her through the heavy wooden door even as the sound of her maid decrying the interruption reached her ears. Morgana sighed.

"Enter, Helios," she said sitting up in bed.

The door opened and Helios entered pushing a young boy in ahead of him, her chambermaid Mirilla bustling through behind them. Mirilla went right to the heavy drapes pulling them open. Light flooded the room, the stained glass casting strange shadows on the floor.

_Sunlight broke through the clouds, to be caught on the metal of the blade. The light bounced back at them, blinding and bright. They ducked, shielded their eyes, or lost their sight altogether.-_

"Tell her majesty what you told me," Helios ordered. Morgana turned her attention to the boy Helios had presented.

The Moorish nobleman shot her a quick glance, his dark eyes serious, his usual smug good humor absent.

She sat up straight and turned her attention to the child even as Helios did so. This news must have been urgent indeed. Here she was in bed, hair tousled from sleep, and his attention was all for the child. The man almost never missed an opportunity for a flirt.

"Your majesty, I'm a page; I haven't been a page since you've been here, but-"

Helios shook the boy.

"Tell her about the magistrate."

"Right, sir, sorry, sir." The boy nodded and swallowed."Well, ma'am, you wanted to know where King Arthur is," the child bit his lip. "The magistrate knows. The magistrate met with King Arthur for a full two hours before he left, ma'am."

Morgana felt the corners of her mouth starting to turn upward. This was the first true lead she'd had on King Arthur's location in the weeks she'd been here.

"You're certain?"

"Oh yes, your majesty," his eyes brightened. "I fetched the magistrate myself, your majesty." There was pride in the child's voice.

"This is indeed good news, Helios, well done."

Helios nodded and grinned, flashing white teeth in a dark face. Her maid Mirilla returned, dressing gown draped over one arm.

"I remember Magistrate Grigor," the sorceress said thoughtfully as she got out of bed. Mirilla helped her into a deep blue dressing gown as she rose.

"He was one of the few men at court not intimidated by my father." She explained to Helios. "He is also married to Arthur's nurse; he will most likely be loyal to the king." Morgana considered a moment. "I think it likely, that Arthur did indeed confide his mysterious quest in him."

"If he is loyal," Helios paused, "we must make him talk."

"Indeed, " she grinned then turned brusque. "I must bathe and break my fast. Grigor is a valuable tool. I will think carefully on how I wish to handle him."

Morgana turned her attention back to the child.

"You must be our guest for the day child. Tell me who are your parents?"

"Lord Aelwyd and Lady Bettrys . My father insisted that I tell you, your majesty. He said it would be very valuable to you."

"Your father is very clever." Morgana turned her attention back to Helios. "We will meet and discuss this sometime after the council this morning, Helios. In the meanwhile find this child something to do."

"As your majesty wishes." Helios bowed and left, taking the boy with him.

_"You are a natural seer, Morgana. You must wake slowly each morning, and concentrate on the details of your dreams, taking the time to commit each to memory…"_

_-Sunlight broke through the clouds, to be caught on the metal of the blade. The light bounced back at them, blinding, and bright. They ducked, shielded their eyes, or lost their sight altogether.-_

The sorceress felt her hands clenching into fists. Her dreams had not yet told her where Arthur was to be found. Only of things that she already knew. As long as he lived, Arthur was a threat to all her plans.

Arthur was the legitimate son to Uther, and Uther was dead and buried when he was crowned. There was no law to dispute his being king. When he sought aid, the rulers of other nations must aid him or weaken their hold on their own thrones. She had to find him before he could reach out to allies, assuming that he had not already done so.

_-the man's face was smeared with dirt, his bushy thick beard and hair littered with bits of broken leaves and twigs, and so was the rest of him and the furs he wore were stained with dark rust patches that she somehow knew to be dried blood. Yet she did not shrink back when his bloodied hands reached out to her, nor was she surprised at their gentleness.-_

What had some filthy blood-stained hunter to do with her or any of her concerns?

_"If the meaning of what you dream is not clear, you must take time to sit and discern." _Again Morgause's instructions echoed through her mind.

Morgana looked out into the courtyard -the summer sun was bright white on the castle stones- recalling yet again the blinding bright light bouncing off the sword her brother held aloft.. Seeing took time. She shook her head, and the blood-stained hunter might be of a future that never came to pass. Grigor was a more certain lead than any flash of insight come through a dream.

"Your majesty, I have your breakfast," her maid spoke, and she turned away from the window. Footsteps in the outer chamber alerted her to another visitor.

"Your majesty," her secretary, Bevan, bowed as he entered the room. "I have your schedule for the day."

"Good," Morgana sat down at her worktable, recalling for a moment the breakfast she used to share with Uther. "You shall read it to me over breakfast."

No, she did not have time for dreams.

Once her fast was broken, Morgana bathed and dressed. Then it was off to the first council of the day.

Whoever had designed the council room had made it rather brilliant. All of its features were simple stone, sanded and polished to a soft sheen. It housed only a long rectangular wooden table, but at the far end behind the space reserved for the king or in her case, a queen, was a row of windows, all fitted with stained glass, allowing the sun to shine into the room for much of the day and giving to whomever sat at the head of the table a certain magnificence. Morgana sat there now.

The first report was on the whereabouts of King Arthur, after that the position of her troops and supplies, and then the situation in the north. The North was perhaps her greatest worry. Where her men had gone expecting surprised capitulation, they'd found ready resistance.

Ready resistance was not quelled with ease. They had been warned somehow, even as she had been maneuvering her army into place.

"The revolt in the North has grown worse," Commander Armid explained."Armed men and women roam openly bearing the crest of the golden dragon. There are knights amongst them some bearing only the king's banner, others carrying both the king's sigil, along with the insignia of their own lord. More troops-"

For just a moment Morgana did not see the long rectangular table at which she sat as head, nor did she see the heavy square stones that made up the walls of Camelot's council room or the columns soaring into the arched ceiling. She did not even see the face of Armid, she saw instead violence, chaos.

_-They smashed pottery, jam, pickled fish in the dirt, ground them under boots, into clothes, and bed linens. She'd never witnessed such wanton destruction. And the screaming-_

_She followed the sound somehow__;_ _and saw a girl -naked, perhaps fourteen years of age- running from soldier's camp. Cheers, hooting, laughter followed and there was more screaming. One of the soldiers pissed on a man's corpse.-_

The sorceress frowned. Her soldiers had abused some villages in spite of her instructions.

"And yet your men looted and razed a northern village populated by simple peasant farmers, making an unfriendly territory more unfriendly still."

He froze mid-sentence staring while the other councilors shot nervous glances at one and other.

"Y-your majesty, I assure you the men involved have been punished."

"Have they?" She leaned forward a bit, eyes narrowed.

"Yes, your majesty, they were punished the moment I learnt of it."

"Yet I was not made aware of this."

"N-no, your majesty." He bowed his head. "The men were punished and there was nothing more to be done for it."

"You decided I did not need to know and _yet I do_," Morgana emphasised the last three words.

They all watched her, fear evident in their eyes as they absorbed the meaning of her words.

"It was an error, your majesty."

"Indeed, you have done good work up until now, and it is only for that reason that you are safe. I do not want to learn of such mistakes in the future," Morgana leaned back in her chair.

The room seemed to sigh, and she felt some satisfaction at that. It was best that they not be able to predict when, where, or upon whom her anger might fall.

"Now more troops is not an option; finding the king is at the top of our list of priorities." She may have had a lead in Grigor, but Grigor's audience with Arthur had been nearly a month ago. Who knew how helpful his information might truly be. If they did not find Arthur, the situation in the North would not matter.

"Fear not though," she smiled now. "There will be some magical aid for your men. Now,Galan,

you have something to report."

The man took a deep breath.

"We may have situation at Gogwyn."

"A situation?" Agravaine asked. "Gogwyn and Ogmore were the rally points for the knights and soldiers of Camelot. They were the first points secured."

"Ogmore, yes." The man took a deep breath, and she could see him steeling himself. "We never heard from the men initially sent to hold Gogwyn nor from subsequent patrols sent to investigate."

"Never, heard-"Morgana felt her anger stirring and gripped the wooden edge of the table."How many patrols?" She asked forcing herself to remain calm.

"Two your majesty," he said growing nervous.

"So two patrols, in addition to the original cadre?"

"Yes, your majesty."

She looked at him now, face pale with cool anger.

"Gogwyn is in the North, is it not?"

"Yes, your majesty."

"And you only bring this to my attention now?"

"We-well, your majesty, we did not think-"

"-No, you did not think," Morgana's tone was cool.

"I assure you, your majesty, we'll-"

"-You'll do nothing. There is a rebellion brewing on our doorstep. _I_ will handle the situation in Gogwyn, and you will be flogged. I shall oversee it myself." She grinned and surveyed the room a moment before sniffing."It would seem, gentlemen, that all of our business is concluded?"

"Yes, majesty."

Morgana rose and the council members did so as well, bowing to her as the council concluded. The sorceress smiled truly now, pleased by their submission.

"Agravaine, Helios, you're with me."

Morgana stepped away from the council table, leaving the other two men to follow her as she swept from the room. They'd only gotten about ten feet when Captain Penrith, face red and furious, entered the hall.

The man bowed upon sighting them, but his eyes caught Helios' and she found her curiosity piqued.

"Captain, what brings you up from the lower town?" Morgana asked.

"It is nothing worthy of your attention, your majesty."

"You were going to report to commander Helios."

"Yes, your majesty."

"Well you've found me. Walk with us and tell me of the outrage, that furrows your brow."

He took a deep breath, "As you wish, your majesty."

Morgana continued toward her suite, and the captain walked alongside her.

"One of your soldiers has been killed, your majesty."

"Well, soldiering is a dangerous job, they do, _die_."

"Of course, your majesty, but this one was murdered as he slept, by a peasant woman."

"She'll be executed of course," was Morgana's reply.

"Of course, your majesty, but the Magistrate Grigor, has taken her under his protection."

She laughed now.

"What can that petty little yeoman do?"

"Well, your majesty, he is insisting on a trial for her. She says she was defending herself against his a-" the man paused searching for a word "against his unwanted advances and by rule of law, she has the right to defend herself. "

"Captain," she sighed. "Did I not tell your men to satisfy themselves at the whorehouses?"

"Well- yes."

"And now we've got trouble over a peasant girl with enough balls to stick one of your men while he was doin' her?"

Agravaine gasped and blushed at her vulgar word choice, but Helios chuckled. The captain merely swallowed and looked uncomfortable.

"If he weren't dead, I think I should have him flayed alive. I should have you flogged," she paused a moment and met his worried eyes. "I still might," Morgana bit her lower lip suppressing a grin a she contemplated the prospect.

"M-majesty-"

"Shut-up. Grigor will have his trial. It shall be by ordeal in the queen's court. Fetch the woman Janet here immediately. Also," she shared a pleased smiled with Helios, "it is time we had a word with Mr. Magister, fetch him as well, captain."

"Yes, your majesty," the captain bowed and left.

They were outside her chamber now.

"Lord Agravaine, review the weapons in the vault and the situation in the North. Prepare a recommendation for what will be most helpful to the men there. Commander Helios will know the troop strength; he will help you."

Agravaine looked prissily annoyed as always; Helios only grinned his smile. Helios seemed to enjoy the effortless way in which he bothered the nobleman.

"Of course, your majesty," Agravaine bowed.

"As you wish, majesty," Helios said. "I am ever your humble servant."

Helios bowed and both men departed.

The door of her suite opened then and Mirilla greeted her.

"Your lunch is all prepared, majesty."

**Hafreen**

The summer sun washed down, over, and through her creating a pleasant and often savored warmth from the roots of her hair, through her long limbs and into the tips of her toes. On any other day Haf would savor standing in a hot beam of summer sun. Today, though, she watched her father marching off to audience with Morgana. He was not arrested -only Janet was shackled, but it felt somehow as if her father were arrested too.

Back in his sling, Kitty pressed against her side. Kitty was recovered, but he had grown used to the sling and insisted that she sometimes carry him in it. She turned and saw the soldier Leofren standing there. Haf felt a sickening twist in her stomach. It was only Leofren that made Kitty want to burrow into her side.

_Why was he in her room?_

"You're a brave lad, tougher than I would have believed."

"Thank you," she said unable to resist giving a polite reply to an adult.

He smiled.

"You should join us, Gerry and I that is."

Haf shook her head.

"Right your father, and brother the _Great Lord Enfys_," his tone mocked her now, "you're waiting for them."

"I am a good and dutiful son just as the commandments say," Haf said with pride.

"I am a good and dutiful son-" He mimicked her with a chuckle.

"I have chores," Haf declared and started for the door intending to go around him, but Leofren grabbed her arm as she passed him. He wasn't hurting her, but she could feel the strength he was tempering as he grinned down at her.

Her heart began to pound and she swallowed when his grip tightened.

"Still a weakling." He pulled her close pressing her against his side, and Haf drew back in fear. He smiled down at her, a wolf's grin.

And in that moment she understood something; it was as if light filled a dark room. He was like an animal. Predators such as cats, foxes, or wolves looked for fear and responded to it on instinct. You could not show them fear if you were going to nurse them. Leofren had found fear in Gerry, and this was how he had convinced Gerry to accept his training. Now he wanted to find it in her, so he could-

-She didn't understand what he wanted, but it was not good. His so-called training of Gerry was the proof of that.

Only a few hours ago her father had confronted and controlled a mob of angry soldiers, handling them with only the force of his will. Haf drew herself up as straight as she could and willed her eyes to show him contempt. He was a weak man, bullying children.

"I know what you are," she said, voice cold.

His smug grin froze, and his eyes narrowed.

"You're an animal." It was her turn to smile. It was all a game of bluff. All she had to do was convince him that he would be hurt tangling with her. All she had to do was believe it herself, and believe it she did. _How many had been in that mob? _He was, but one man.

_"Now. Let. Go. Of. Me." _She cloaked herself in the same confidence her father used and willed his obedience with every fiber of her being. He released her arm. The girl's instinct was to bolt, but just as her father would, Haf stood her ground. They had not run from the mob in the street, and she was not going to run from him now. Instead she walked away spine straight, steps long and confident, and she continued in that way, down the stairs and into the kitchen to find her mother.

**Janet**

Janet studied the knife in her hands. She'd done her best to clean Ignacio's blood from the gleaming metal, but there were still traces of the sticky liquid growing dark and thick on its surface. She didn't understand how the soldiers hadn't found it on her person when they'd marched her down the streets for hanging.

She'd remembered sitting in her room, waiting for him to come to her again, wishing the knife invisible. She'd fallen almost into a trance, letting her eyes trace its smooth clean lines over and over again, all the while imagining the moment when she would plunge it into his flesh. _He could not find it; he must not find. _Somehow in that wishing, and willing, she had marshaled her inconsistent, untrained magic to make it so.

Janet heard the clatter of boots on stone and quickly wrapped the knife in her kerchief before stuffing it into the waistband under her bodice. She could not know when her magic might fail yet again.

"You have a visitor."

Janet pursed her full lips into a frown. Who would be visiting her here? No one would bring her grandmother to such a place, would they? The magistrate's son had come earlier with a little food and couple of worn, but clean linens.

The cell door opened, and Leolin walked in. She nearly leapt to her feet, but stopped, twisting the blue serge of her skirt in her hands as her mind summoned the memory of his rejection at the magistrate's home. The moment of weakness with Nerien had no more been her fault than Nacio raping her, but the memory of Lin's eyes cold, unforgiving, his face twisted with disgust kept her frozen in place. She let her eyes follow the weave of her skirt, listened to his breathing and waited for his first words.

"Oh, Janet, why didn't you tell me what was happening?"

His tone was heavy with sorrow, and she looked up at him in shock.

"Ugh! Of course you didn't tell me. Not after the way I acted with the bracelet." They stared at one another a moment, and then he sat down beside her on the pile of straw. He took one of her cold hands in his, and the heavy iron cuff chaffed her wrists, chains rattling with even the slightest movement.

"I'm sorry, Janet, this is my fault. I had so many chances to trust you, to accept you, to believe in you, in us, and I didn't. I'm sorry."

She met his eyes now, dark with sorrow and regret, the whites red from sleeplessness or crying; there was a cut on his lip. _Had he been fighting?_

"You would have been in my home, been my wife. Things might have been different, or maybe we would have been happy for at least a little while. I'm so sorry, Janet."

"No, Lin, no, this is not your fault," Janet shook her head."It's only that awful soldier's fault, and if I had been in your home then perhaps a different soldier would have abused me, and if you'd fought him-" she had to pause a moment as her throat grew tight and tears stirred. Her calm was entirely gone now. "You are only one man, Lin."

"But-" he looked away, lips pressed together in a long, thin, line of misery. When he looked back, there were tears in his eyes. "I told you before I never stopped loving you, Janet. I meant that. I wish, somehow, that we might still be married."

"Oh Lin," Janet felt a trembling set out over her body as tears slipped from her eyes. The calm acceptance of her fate that had settled over her when she'd stolen Grigor's knife evaporated completely now.

"Lin, I love you so much." In that moment the memory of that first kiss from her lover's lips tingled sweetly on her own.

He released her hand then and took her face between his work roughened palms, stirring a frisson of pleasure on her cheeks. In the next moment, his lips were on hers, mingling the salt of their tears with passion sweetened on death's doorstep.

He filled her heart and mind, then his lips, his eyes, his laugh, the salt of his tears...The knowledge of happiness ripped from her grasp and the suffering he would endure, the suffering she seemed to always be enduring crashed down her, a fall of water powerful in its mass, obliterating everything in its path.

The anguish of a lifetime froze her throat, overwhelmed her heart, and drained her strength so that she could only speak in the barest of whispers. When the guards came to collect her, to take her to trial, she offered no resistance to them mind and heart caught in her own sea of sorrow. Only a few quiet tears leaked from her eyes to show the anguish inside.

**Morgana**

Morgana sighed as she settled on her throne. Captain Penrith was most assuredly going to be flogged, perhaps the Magistrate as well. The trial would be a quick, a simple formality. She had far more important things to do than preside over murder trials of damned fool soldiers who couldn't keep their cocks in their pants.

Still, Jane, or whatever her name was, would have to be punished. Her soldiers could not simply be murdered. Grigor would excuse this woman, if given the chance. She could not allow that. When she'd done with Jane, it would be time for Grigor's audience, and then _she _would learn what was truly happening in Gogwyn.

The doors at the far end of the throne room opened. _Jane_ stood there head down, covered by a fraying kerchief though tufts of blond curls escaped round the edges. She was flanked on either side by two guards.

"Bring her forward."

At that moment the air in the room caught fire. Not literally of course, but all along the edges of her skin from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes magic sizzled, and it was not her own. She looked around the courtroom for the source of the magic, and her eyes came again to Jane.

When they reached the foot of the throne, the soldiers forced her to her knees.

"This, is the woman, Janet," the herald said. "She is being presented for the crime of murder and is accused of murdering one of her great majesty Queen Morgana Pendragon's soldiers called by the name of Ignacio."

At that moment another sizzle of magic and Morgana could feel the anger and anguish in it calling to her own memories of anger and suffering. It had to be this Janet.

"You murdered one of my soldiers?"

"Yes," it came out in a sob, and Morgana felt herself frowning.

"Look at me," she commanded. Another cascade of magical energy and this time, the heavy drapes stirred, though there was no breeze. Janet looked up tears in her gray eyes. She leaned toward Janet, no telltale ring of golden fire lit the woman's eyes, but if the magic was not being actively used….She extended a hand toward the other woman, to take her chin between her thumb and forefinger, and felt again the shimmer of power, like the spark of energies sometimes stirred in woolen rugs on dry winter mornings.

"You're a witch," Morgana said grinned.

Janet pulled back and ducked her head, the instinctive need to hide taking over.

Morgana set back in her throne.

"This trial is over. There will be no more harming or killing of witches," she said. "Take her back to her cell."

**Janet**

"Your majesty," Janet got to her feet and curtseyed. What was Morgana doing at the door of her cell?

"Open it."

The wooden door of the cell opened with a creak, and Janet watched in shock as the Queen of Camelot walked into her cell.

"You may go," Morgana said without looking at the guard, thoughts and eyes fixed on Janet.

When he stood unmoving and indecisive, Morgana turned and glared at him.

"I'm hardly in any danger from one, unarmed woman."

"But, your majest-"

"-I said go."

"Ma'am," the guard ceased his protest, bowed and left.

"Look at me; no need to bow your head," the queen said.

Janet raised her eyes, and was surprised to see a warm and gentle smile on Morgana's face.

"Surely I'm in no danger from a sister witch, am I?"

"No, your majesty," Janet mumbled her answer and trained her gaze on her feet.

"Janet."

She felt Morgana's hands on her shoulders, and it took all of Janet's willpower to stand unmoving rather than shrink back in disgust.

"You need no longer feel afraid."

Confused Janet looked up at the queen now searching for any hint of deceit and met the other woman's eyes, their color murky and muddy in the dim light of the cell. She saw gentleness softness, but there seemed to be some smug twist in it.

"No further harm shall come to you."

"What do you mean?"

"You suffered under my father, didn't you?"

Janet swallowed and resisted the stirring of tears even as she nodded and looked away.

"My father and brother were burnt at the stake."

"As were many good people, but you're one of us, and you don't belong in this foul cell. Agree to serve me loyally, and I shall teach you to use your magic so you need never fear again."

For a moment she considered pulling her invisible knife and plunging it into the other woman's throat. She could do it before anyone could stop her, but then all of Camelot would be at the mercy of the foreigners.

"I swear, your majesty," she said thinking of her friends Sarah, Rolfe, and Gwen. Nobles never paid attention to servants. She doubted it would ever occur to Morgana that Janet might have reason to bear her a grudge.

"Good," the other woman's smile widened. "Come along then."

She turned toward the cell door.

"Guard."

A moment later the guard reappeared.

"Open it and then release her." The guard did as commanded. "Come along then," the sorceress said as she started toward the cell door, dry, moldy rushes crunching under foot. "My sister-witch does not belong in a place like this."

Janet followed Morgana out of the cell, thinking of Gwen who had also once served Morgana. Had she gone from the boiling pot and into the flame?

**Hafreen**

Haf ran from room to room of the house, closing and latching the shutters against the pull of sudden icy wind. She spared a glance for the northern horizon out of her bedroom window and saw heavy, dark clouds in the distance. In her short life she'd never known a storm to come up so fast. The shift had been sudden, fast moving, cold wind stealing through their open windows, pulling at hair and clothing and tipping over lightweight items like lamps- and candles.

Already it was growing dark,the air heavy with humidity. Storms were dangerous, but they stirred the idea of adventure in the mind, and Haf felt a growing excitement mingled with worry for her father and brother. With the last of the shutters latched, she headed back to the kitchen to help her mother finish preparing dinner. The soldiers had been summoned to the hold shortly before the first signs of the storm. She hoped the weather would keep them there.

"I hope your father and Gerry make it home safe," her mother said as she entered the kitchen.

The girl didn't say anything, just gave her mother a hug and leaned her head on her shoulder for a moment, an increasingly difficult feet as she gained inches of growth.

"Thank you, baby," her mother kissed her cheek, and Haf returned to tending the apples she was stewing for their dinner. The wind howled against their windows and afternoon grew darker still.

They were preparing a meal of fresh pork for dinner tonight, apples stewed with cinnamon, nutmeg and honey, and a flaky quiche made with spinach and cheese. Efan had made up the pastry for the quiche early in the day, and the rest of the menu was simple and quickly done. It was the first meal of fresh food in weeks.

The recent quiet in the city meant that they had been able to get meat at a tolerable price from the butcher. They had their own hens for eggs and even a few goats for milk, butter and cheese, but they couldn't eat any of these animals for meat. A small vegetable patch in their backyard provided food as well, but otherwise they relied on the butcher for meats, the miller for flour, and a stream of fruit and vegetables from the fields around Camelot to load their dinner table.

With Morgana had come isolation, and for a few weeks that flow of goods had ground to halt. With the South resting uneasily, but quietly the flow had begun again, not as thick or deep, but there was pork on their table again and apples and figs. They still had to use the salt sparingly, but there was hope for more.

Haf tasted the syrup stewing around her apples and smiled with satisfaction. She lifted the iron pot of apples from the chain suspending them over the hearth and moved them to the stone counter.

Glaring white light flashed thru the shutters, and not long after there was crackle of thunder and the house shook.

Efan clucked her tongue, and Haf glanced at her mother.

"I mislike the look of this storm." The older woman sighed. "Light some candles, child."

"It did come in very fast." Haf said going to cupboard, wondering if, like herself, her mother thought there was something unnatural about it. "And the wind- I don't think I've ever felt a wind this cold during the summer."

Efan chuckled at that as Haf grabbed a few of tallow and beeswax candles.

"In your long twelve summers, hmmm?"

She poked out her lips knowing her mother was teasing her.

"Twelve years is a long enough time, and I've never seen anything like it," the girl insisted.

"Well, we shall agree on the latter, my dear child, and I can add quite a few more summers to tell you it is not natural."

Haf felt her eyes widen in excitement.

"Do you suppose a devil will appear?"

"Devil?" Efan narrowed her eyes.

"They say there was terrible storm in Powis and a devil came and burnt everything up. That's what Ninian's older brother says anyway."

"And you believe everything Ninian's older brother says?"

Under her mother's challenging gaze, Haf felt a bit silly.

"No, I suppose not."

"That's right, you're a smart-"

In that moment a fierce wind shook the house, and they heard the sound of a shutter loose and banging in the wind. A chill gust poured through the house, extinguishing the candles in the kitchen and other rooms, plunging the pair into almost complete darkness. The lowering storm had turned afternoon into night. The only light in the kitchen now was the dull red that came off the hot stones in the hearth and slipped through the vents in the brazier.

Haf shivered recalling stories of the devil of Powis. The kitchen brightened momentarily with another crack of lightning and then a boom of thunder behind it. Somewhere the loose shutter banged.

"Go close that shutter, child." Her mom's voice was soft, subdued.

She considered protesting. Haf did not want to meet a devil in the darkened hall, but the annoyed look her mother had given her at such tales let her know there'd be no sympathy there. Her mom was right, probably.

"Yes, ma'am."

Haf banished thoughts of devils and dashed into the hall, certain the loose shutter was in the parlor. She'd lived all her years in this home and on more than one occasion traipsed its halls in the dark. She found the parlor by memory and another flash of lightning showed her the loose shutter. The girl went to the window. Fumbling in the darkness, she found the shutter latches even as the first few drops of rain slanted through the window.

There was another ground-rattling flash of lightning, and now the thunder seemed to almost match it, booming through the air in a deafening crack. Rain was coming down fast now, and Haf got the shutter latched. It would keep out most of the water, leaving the rest to drain through the scullery.

A moment later she heard a banging of a different sort and realized that someone was pounding on their door. _Did devils knock? _Then she remembered her father and Gerry and ran to the door. Peaking through the little window in the door, Haf saw both her father and Gerry there.

"Mooooom!" She called projecting her voice over the sound of the storm. "Dad and Gerry are back!" She unlocked the heavy wooden door and pulled it open, relief flooding her. Her father was safe.

* * *

><p>They sat down to dinner under candlelight, Grigor telling the most surprising and unexpected end to Janet's tale. That she was a witch and would thus be spared, as long as she pledged her fealty to Morgana. She had always gotten the sense that her parents didn't agree with the king's policy on magic. But they didn't seem at all happy about this either.<p>

Normally supper was completed in time enough for Haf and Gerry to clean up as afternoon light waned into evening. Alis' job as housekeeper was largely to assist their mother, which meant chores for them. Efan had said to them more than once "I'll not have you spoiled like so many nobles who think they are too good to wash a dish or wipe their own arses."

With the total darkness of night upon them, they did not have light enough to clean so they stored the remnants of dinner in the cellar and set the dishes to soak.

Gerry didn't talk much as they cleaned, but that was common for him these days, and as soon as they were done he headed up to his room.

With the house free of soldiers a carefree feeling settled over Haf, and she roamed the house, Kitty at her side. If the storm had not come, she might have gone outside to look for her friends. As it was, Haf lay down on a bench in the front room eyes closed, Kitty in her lap, the drumming of rain in her ears. The earlier fierceness of the storm had mellowed into a steady, soothing flow of rain- that Haf let quiet her thoughts. Relaxed and content, the girl dozed until a cramp disturbed her peace.

Ready to retire, the girl sought her parents in the parlor to wish them good night.

"-can't be certain." She heard her mother say.

"Of course not, but it's the most likely thing."

Instead of going into the parlor, Haf chose to stand outside the door listening.

"She didn't care one whit that I'd interfered with the mob one way or another. It was a just a song and dance to put me off, worry me."

"Did it work?"

She heard her father's warm, rich chuckle in answer.

"Of course not, darling, don't be silly. Morgana's as much a child as Arthur. And her two lackeys-" She heard a tch-tch.

"How could I have ever doubted my great husband's steadfastness?"

Haf grinned. She could almost hear her mother rolling her eyes.

"You may hold those three in contempt, but Morgana is queen, and Helios and Agravaine are two of her favorites. You see them as foolish brutes and perhaps rightly so, but brutes can crush you with sheer power, darling, remember that."

"I shall do my utmost." It was clear to Haf by her father's tone that he did not take her mother's concerns seriously at all. A moment later Efan's annoyed sigh confirmed it.

"You truly believe that Arthur has been seen?"

Haf felt her eyes go wide.

"It must be. She'd just started to question me about the audience with the king when the messenger interrupted. I did not hear the message, of course, but she was completely uninterested in me after that."

"I suppose so," Efan's voice rose with hope, and Haf felt herself smiling. King Arthur lived!

"It has to be; consider it. As long as Arthur lives, he is a threat to her. She finds a clue, some unexpected answer and then discards it. There is but one thing that could make that clue unimportant."

She heard a rustle of fabric and the creaking of furniture.

"You logic is clear. I just hope and pray that this also means he is well."

"I believe it must. Otherwise, she would most surely be crowing it from the tallest towers of the palace."

Haf knocked then on the parlor door then.

"Come."

"Mom, Dad."

They were sitting close on the parlor's bench, arms around one another.

"Going to bed, sweetheart?" Her mother asked taking in her nightshirt and bare feet.

"Mhmmm."

"Well, give us a hug and kiss then."

She wanted to ask them about the king, what they thought would happen next, but then they would know she'd been eavesdropping.

"I'm glad you're unharmed, father," Haf said as she hugged her dad. "I love you, Mom." She had her hugs and kisses and headed up to her room, but once upstairs she saw light spilling out from underneath Gerry's door.

"Can I come in, Gerry?" Haf asked as she knocked on his door.

"Of course."

A solitary candle cast a glow of soft white light over her brother's figure. He was sitting in the bedroom window, wearing his nightshirt, back resting against the smooth plaster wall.

"Can I sleep in here?" Haf asked remembering the way Leofren had surprised her in her room.

Being the only girl, Haf had had a room to herself since she was ten years-old. Gerry and Enfys had shared this room until Enfys had gotten married.

Gerry smiled and nodded. Already sleepy, Haf got into Gerry's bed. A few moments later her brother put out the candles and joined her. Of course, rather than going right to sleep, she told Gerry about the conversation she'd overheard between their parents, and the two of them began discussing what they would do when King Arthur inevitably attacked Camelot.

It was an exciting conversation for a while, but the steady drumming of rain on their roof, the dark of night eventually lulled both into sleep.

* * *

><p>The room was dark, completely dark. She felt Kitty's warm weight settled in the crook of her knee and then the sound of a muffled sob. It took a moment to realize that it was Gerry in bed beside her- <em>crying?<em>

Another sob and Haf didn't say anything. She just rolled over and put her arms around her brother pressing his long lean frame against her own. At first he cried harder, but after a time he stopped and clutched at one of her hands.

"I'm glad you're here,sis," he said, voice a hoarse whisper.

She hugged him tighter.

"What, what's wrong?"

"Should we pray for a bit, Haf?"

She wanted to repeat her question, but only said: 'very well."

"Hail Mary, full of grace," he began voice still hoarse from crying.

They lay in bed together reciting their prayer until time, darkness, and repetition soothed both children into untroubled sleep.

**Morgana**

Up and back, up and back to the window and then the door, a worried circle of pacing, the gem bright blue silk swirling about her legs with every step. _Arthur had led a revolt at Caer; not a single patrol sent to Gogwyn had returned._

After leaving Janet in the hands of her maid to be cleaned and more appropriately dressed, she had gone to her audience with Magistrate Grigor. Things had only just gotten interesting when the interruption had come.

The interruption turned out to be far more important than anything else. _King Arthur had led a revolt at Caer. _She wanted to turn her full thoughts to to Caer and Arthur, but Caer was at least five days away on horseback, riding hard. Which meant the revolt had been five days ago. Who knew where Arthur was now? That he was not on his way here with an army was certain. The Caer revolt had been peopled almost entirely by locals, and the locals at least would remain in Caer holding the town against her.

_Up._

Morgana halted in her pacing, and glanced out at the busy courtyard. Servants scurried across it ladened with baskets of laundry or food. One of her generals on horseback rode away on some errand. Lord Aelwyd and Lady Bettrys walked toward the gate looking rather pleased with themselves. It looked much as it had in Uther's time.

_Back._

Gogwyn was a day's march away. If an army was gathering there, she needed to know most urgently. She did not yet know where Arthur had gone, but he must inevitably come to Camelot. He could not find allies at Gogwyn when he did.

She had planned to simply flog Galan's back until the skin peeled away, but now. Morgana let a low growl of frustration. She would have him flayed, and if that did not kill him, his entrails would be pulled out through his anus.

Morgana shook her head and took a deep breath.

"Enough of such thoughts for now. Gogwyn first and then Caer, then punishments." She called to her maid Mirella and directed the woman that she must not be interrupted for the next hour.

Morgana was practiced enough in her meditation that she needed no special preparation. She laid her protective stones in a circle about the most comfortable seat in her parlour and sat down. With eyes closed hands resting lightly on her knees, Morgana took a deep soothing breath. Some used incense or special herbs to ease the passage into trance, but given the nature of her gift, Morgause had insisted that she be able to slip in and out of trance in the winking of an eye.

_-"When you dream true, you must take a moment upon waking to hold all that was shown to you in sleep in your waking mind and keep it there so that you may pour over each moment like the pages of a book."-_

Queenship was a selfish companion, leaving little time for sitting and thinking.

She'd seen nothing of Castle Gogwyn in her dreams, but if enemies were gathering there, than she must know.

Morgana slipped with ease from light trance into deep. Her breath and functions so slight that to anyone observing, she would appear dead. And thus her body became so light a weight upon her spirit that she stepped out of it as one might a dress.

For a moment, she surveyed her body. The first time she'd looked upon her entranced form had shaken her to the core. Her body looked pale, drained somehow, but Morgause had been there and called her attention to the fact that everything of the living world looked muted.

And this was true. Plants, animals, food, manmade things had a faint, muted look as if they could float away at any moment. Around her though, she saw swirls and whorls of color. Many had no shape that meant anything to her, but sometimes the swirls and whorls of shimmering energy took on the shapes of buildings or even beings.

Freed of her body, she saw the gleaming white towers of Camelot were overlaid by a shimmering castle of violet.

Morgana started toward the window and stopped, hairs on the back of her neck rising. She'd never truly understood how her spirit could not be in her body, but have so many of the same reactions. Including the same sensation of warning when someone was watching her. The sorceress froze and turned quickly. Yet her eyes found nothing, but empty air.

She was no fool; there was another spirit present. Not someone like herself. Somehow she knew it was the spirit of someone dead. Morgana considered a moment, her body was in no danger, her protections were in place, and spirits were everywhere. That this was the first time she had sensed a spirit was perhaps worrying, but Gogwyn and what it held was far more urgent than any spirit. It would have to do something other than watch.

Morgana went to the window and did not bother opening it. Walls, glass, windows, doors,all made by the hand of man had no meaning for a spirit. Only her own will prevented her from slipping through the floorboards. The packed earth being the only matter upon which a spirit might stand. She walked through the glass as if it were not there and crouched on the ledge waiting for a northerly wind. The sensation of being watched rose hairs on the back of her neck again, and gooseflesh on her arms. Again, she ignored it.

If she'd known Castle Gogwyn, Morgana could have willed herself there, but with no memory, no essence of the place she'd have to travel the long way. Thankfully riding the wind was far faster than going by foot or horseback.

Warm blasts of wind from the South had been blowing the last three days, buffeting them with the occasional hot caress. The sorceress surveyed the courtyard below her and felt a tingling twist in her stomach _or rather_ phantom stomach. They were four stories up. High enough for her body to hurt itself, perhaps even be killed if she fell from this height. She reminded herself that there was no danger now and crouched, waiting for the southerly blast that would carry her toward Gogwyn. The sensation of being watched grew, and she resisted the urge to turn her head. When the wind came, there would not have much time.

She looked south scanning the horizon for signs of a current and felt one washing over and through her before she saw any evidence of it. If she were less practiced, Morgana would have missed her ride altogether. But instead she dove and found herself swept up and away with the current, leaving who or whatever watched her behind.

The wind swept her through the courtyard and swirled her and everything caught in it over the palace and around its towers. Little zephyrs came to her like warm tickles whispering in her ear, tugging her phantom clothes and patting her skin.

_"Hi!Hi!Hi!Hi!Hi!Hi!Hi!"_

They did not speak in words, of course, but their greetings were friendly, curious, and burst over her like a gaggle of bursting bubbles.

"Hello." She could not resist a smile. Wind sprites were gay little things, too light for anger or fear, and grief. Being surrounded by them now recalled Morgana to the happy days of her study under Morgause, when they had ridden the wind together.

_"Slow!Slow!Slow!Slow!Slow!"_

Morgana felt the gale she was riding ripple as they shared this information amongst each other with excitement.

"Well, yes," she agreed.

More of a sense of giggling. As the wind gust dove downward and then the ground was rushing up at them. She had just enough time to feel the first few moments of fear, before the gale was shooting upwards and climbing again.

The zephyrs cheered and whirled, dancing at the gust's force.

_"Where do you go sorceress?" _The gale's words rumbled through her mind.

"A castle, its a day's march north of Camelot, where I joined you."

_"Hmmm, I know nothing of marches, but this might be your destination."_

Morgana looked to the horizon and saw stark gray towers against the afternoon sky. This was almost surely Gogwyn. Here was the tricky part. Riding the wind, much like swimming, try to stand and you would sink.

The castle was rushing up now. No time to think.

She stood up and slipped right through the hot summer current.

"Thank you," she called to the current as she drifted downward. Gales joined and rejoined each other growing in strength and mass before separating into little sprites again. When they did, they shared information, knowledge, news. One could not ride the winds if they had a reputation for being impolite.

_"Bye!Bye!Bye!Bye!Bye!"_

Her spirit, which had almost no mass, drifted downward with all the urgency of a feather to make a soft landing on the castle turret.

Morgana looked down into the castle courtyard, and the buoyancy of spirit she'd felt evaporated.

Knights, soldiers, and what looked to be common peasantry all practicing. Some with swords, staves or flails; others practiced the bow and arrow; still others had pitchforks and scythes.

_"A motley crew, indeed."_

Morgana felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise.

"Another spirit," she muttered.

At that moment two men came marching along the turret, and Morgana stepped aside. She'd been walked through once, and had no desire to repeat the experience. When the patrol passed, she started toward the castle interior and that was when she felt the first stirrings of dread.

It wasn't just a few hundred rebels gathered here. The castle was full; she could hear it. A distant muted din that began to grow as she entered one of the towers and made her way down the spiraling staircase. Conversation, laughter, the tromp of booted feet, swooshes, shuffling, sweeping, pounding, the splash of water, crackle of fire, off-key singing... noise and life were everywhere in castle Gogwyn. And it was not only the living that filled the halls of Gogwyn.

The sensation of being watched was growing. If one spirit had watched her at Camelot, it seemed that many more gathered now.

Morgana concentrated on her mission. She needed to know more about what they would face from the force gathered at Gogwyn. It would not be spirits that would assailing the walls of Camelot.

People hurried through the halls on chores and errands. When she poked her head through walls and looked into rooms, Morgana saw them gathered in handfuls going about their day-to-day activities and chores, men and women alike. The last truly rattled her. Women here meant that the rebels were well supported by the common folk.

She moved briskly, feeling neither the summer warmed stone or soft rushes under ghost-like feet. She needed to know who led them, what they planned. _Was it Emrys somehow working against to shelter a force here?_ The sorceress began to run now. Any castle only had so many rooms that would accommodate a war council and though that council might not be in session, whomever lead here would be quartered near there. She hurried toward the center of Gogwyn.

Where Ogmore was simply one of the old Roman forts, Gogwyn had, at one time, -before Camelot was raised- its own king and queen.

She checked the old throne room first to find it now served as another practice hall. A little further and she found the council room, at its center a large, round wooden table. Little of the late afternoon sunlight reached it, but the room was clean, torches in place waiting to be lit. For a moment she considered simply waiting here. Their war council would most likely come to this room again, but she did not have time to spend in waiting. One could only remain separated from their body for so long.

_"Morgana." _She turned at the sound of her name, but saw no one dead or living, and a course of fear washed through her.

"Begone!" She shouted in anger and started moving again.

She no longer bothered with halls or doors, but charged forward passing through stone walls and ignoring the chill that went with it. The spirits continued to follow her. She could feel them watching her as she moved forward, and she could hear them now, speaking in jumbled whispers only her name coming through with any clarity from time to time.

_"It matters not." _Morgana told herself.

She didn't bother counting the rooms she passed through, but at long last she came to what must have been the king's quarters. Seated at a narrow, worn looking table were two lords, a lady and- Morgana let out an oath. Gwen's brother Elyan, her lips twisted into a frown and something moved, she saw it out of the corner of her eye.

She turned her head and-

Had a shadow flickered in the corner. Nothing was there now, but- She fanned herself. _How could she be growing warm? _Morgana shook her head; this was most likely what she had come to see. She could not be distracted now. The sorceress turned her attention back to the four at the table.

"The destruction of Bayberry has been galvanizing. Many of those who sat undecided now join us."

"But not all Lady Jestina, some have sided with-"

Morgana felt a sudden shock like a burning pin being thrust into her side and started. Had her protections been disturbed. She scanned the room turning her attention away from the group at the table. Shades flickered around her in a semicircle now. Most of them a dull, leached gray, but some were red, some green, all of their faces in a blur.

"I may be here in your world. You may even play some unpleasant tricks, but you cannot affect me." A buzzing started amongst them and she heard sniffs, and Morgana sensed that there were many more than she saw. Still she only glared and turned back to four. The easiest way to keep spirits from harming you was to ignore them. They drew upon your attention to them.

The buzzing grew, and the sniffs began to turn into sorrowful wails.

"Then you believe we should wait no longer," the lady said.

The sorceress swore. Had she missed some essential part of the conversation?

"No. No, our ranks have swelled by another 500. The longer we wait, the more likely it is that Morgana will discover our presence, and gain supplies and allies."

"And," the Lady smiled and leaned toward her conspirators. "We now have word-"

At that moment the buzzing grew and whorls of lurid yellow streaked past her. The door opened and slammed shut, and the four at the table looked at one and other eyes wide with fear.

"I told you this place was haunted," Constantine's son said.

"It seems Sir Constantine, that your specters and spooks at last make themselves known," Lady Jestina remarked dryly.

"Mayhap they do not like our plan," Elyan remarked a wry smile twisting his lips.

More yellow streaks, they swirled around the table and lifted it into the air.

"Great Holy Mother above!" Elyan swore. The four shot to their feet and ran out the door even as it opened again.

Morgana moved to follow them, but the shades gray, green, red and yellow, buzzing or wailing moved as one imposing themselves between her and the door. Not that she needed it. It was easy enough to will herself into the hall now that she knew it was there. But the shades followed her making a ring, their wailing and buzzing grew so that the sounds of the dead in Gogwyn Castle now drowned the sounds of the living.

Sanguine clouds appeared in the hall; they had the heavy weight of storm clouds. But the living, muted and colorless to her eyes, did not see them. Lighting, in lurid yellows, and glaring white, streaked through bloody roiling clouds.

She looked at the shades again and despair oozed from them now, an effluvia of misery that wafted around her. Morgana felt the start of tears.

_"No! I live and you are dead. You cannot harm me!"_

One of the flickering shades seemed to come to sudden life. No longer gray, but a petite blonde woman with brown eyes.

"No one harms you." She said it with the force of an oath. "We give you what is yours."

In that moment, the blonde woman broke, her bones snapping before Morgana's eyes, and some unexpected force slammed her into the ground, and she shared the agony of snapping bones. Morgana screamed, as that same force compelled her to lift her head with her broken neck and see a man, a guardsman of Camelot. He was young, handsome. His stomach split before her eyes, and his guts spilled forth a foul, stinking mess. Morgana screamed again as the burning fire of a knife sliced through her gullet spilling her guts foul and stinking through her hands.

Battered with the agony of two deaths, Morgana curled onto her side tears pouring down her face as the wails of a thousand agonized spirits battered her. Lightning and thunder fell in the world of both the living and the dead.

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><p>Hey everyone, thanks for reading. It was a productive hiatus. Please, please, please review. I love your reviews and always try to reply. I hope everyone is having a good spring.<p>

tw: mentions of sexual assault, torture


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